


Nacht der Langen Messer

by weimar27



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-21
Updated: 2010-08-20
Packaged: 2017-10-17 06:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 39,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weimar27/pseuds/weimar27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the days before the Röhm-Putsch, Jared Padalecki, onetime member of the now defunct Kommunist Partei Deutschland, is living a mundane existence as a store clerk in Berlin. As his professional life goes downhill, he finally decides to visit the infamous Erbsünde that his brother Jakub, a former member of the RFB, and the rest of their friends have been visiting for the past year. During the Heyday of the Communist Party, Jared and Jakub fought for the party on the front lines long enough to gain enemies among the Nazis, specifically Johannes Ackles, now an important member of the SS, and the older brother of Jensen Ackles, a musician and composer with a tragic past who’s a performer at the club. There’s an instant connection between the two, and with the knowledge that forces beyond their control may keep them apart Jared and Jensen begin a relationship.Loosely based on "Romeo & Juliet."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by wickedlilwitch and kain_abel. Art by ewlyn. Written for the 2010 spn_j2_bigbang.

  


  


Jared Padalecki takes it as a sign of how far his life has changed over the past year that he’s visiting the infamous _Erbsünde Klub_ , a place that a year ago he and many of his friends would have dismissed as a symptom of capitalistic excess in lean times. Yet, he’s actually here, sitting next to his brother Jakub and their other friends, at what was apparently their regular table. A few months ago he’d easily bet a hundred Reichsmark that no one at this table would have ever thought of having a regular table at _Erbsünde_.

 _Erbsünde_ was a place where Berlin’s wealthy came to be seen. The proprietor, Herr Jeffrey Dean Morgan, originally sought out middle class patrons who desired opulence and exclusivity, to live out their fantasies of being rich. But over time the wealthy learned that the experience at _Erbsünde_ is second to none and turned it into their popular nightspot. In Jared’s opinion it catered to the wealthy need to spend money in excessive amounts on frivolous things like alcohol, gambling, and violence. If it was condemned as “immoral” could be found here.

Sitting in the club, Jared observes that the opulence is subtler than he expected. The sparse décor gives the illusion of a dingy Cabaret, but upon closer inspection Jared notices the fine linens, naturally from the finest cotton, expensive crystal, and real silverware.

The only obvious expense was the red roses adorning the stage and tables, Herr Morgan’s chosen symbol for his establishment. Bouquets of roses line the stage, flashes of color among the stark blackness of the stage, a single long-stem rose adorning each table. He’d heard from his brother that the red rose was chosen because the color red symbolized the apple that caused Adam and Eve to fall from grace and the rose because of the status it symbolized. By the way rose petals were sprinkled indiscriminately over the tables, it is apparent that Morgan didn’t care about their expense. _More money is probably spent on these roses every few days than I make in a month,_ Jared thinks miserably.

The club is split into two levels, a ground level close to the stage and a platform that rose a couple feet from the ground level in the back of the room. Their table is in the corner of the platform. From this perch he can easily observe the patrons as he sips his beer. There is a marked difference between the patrons. The platform is clearly where the middle class has been exiled to, tolerated but no longer favored since _Erbsünde_ started attracting the richest people in Berlin. The middle class patrons are all in their nicest clothes, but they look poor in comparison to those sitting in the floor near the stage.

The men nearer to the stage have finely cut suits. The women on their arms seem nothing more than expensive accessories, clad in bright silk dresses and glittering jewels, to display their wealth. The members of the Nazi party seated amongst them, Morgan’s only concession to politics, stand out in their military uniforms.

Jared turns away from watching the people to ponder how he got to this point in life, sitting in a club that reeked with the decadent lifestyle of Capitalism, with some of the last remnants of the _Roter Frontkämpferbund._ Jared used to be the golden boy of the group, the person that had a great future ahead of him. He was even chosen by the party as a representative in the Reichstag. Jared thinks being chosen in ’32 to represent the KPD was when everything began to decline.

Instead of a reward for loyal and dedicated service, being chosen by his party was more like a curse. His accepted his seat with the best of intentions, only to find that the party and government he fought for were broken beyond repair. He resigned two months later, disillusioned and floundering. Then _Reichstagsbrandordnung_ was passed and Jared realized that he was well and truly fucked. Jared interpreted the Nazis’ ascension to absolute power to mean that when the Nazis finally resorted to violence to cement their power he would be included among the targets. He and his friends had made too many enemies, notably Johannes Ackles, the _SS-Gruppenleiter Nord_. Jared felt like a relic, just like this club, a product of the magic of _der Weimarer Republik_ that made men believe that the new beginning stood a chance.

Speaking of the Devil, Jared sees Johannes Ackles sitting at the table closest to the stage. In Jared’s opinion, Johannes Ackles is the _epitome eines ungebildeter Rüpel_ that the Nazi’s liked to elevate because they looked and thought like _Arier_ they romanticized. He knew that Johannes Ackles was surprisingly well educated; he attended Humboldt Universität after all, but in Jared’s opinion, that education hadn’t resulted in an ability to think abstractly or fostered any curiosity about other cultures. Ackles’ father, Anton, was similarly _rüpelhaft_. This loutish behavior along with their fanatical patriotism and belief in racial superiority made them perfect Nazi _Abschaum._

Not surprisingly, Stefan Karlson is sitting at Ackles’ table. He is Ackles’ friend and was his right hand man until Ackles’ promotion a couple years ago.

Both Johannes and Stefan had been a thorn in their side since the very beginning of this experiment with democracy. Both were early member of the Nazi party back when the party was nothing more than groups of roving thugs trying to rile up fear against foreign influence. In the past ten years, they had clashed many times.

Jared takes a sip of his absinthe and informs his brother, “Ackles is here.” His brother clearly isn’t in a reasonable frame of mind if he is spending time anywhere near Johannes Ackles. It’s just a disaster waiting to happen.

“This is neutral ground,” Jakub informs him with an air of nonchalance. “Morgan is an equal opportunity corrupter of the people.” Jakub hisses a laugh and raises his glass cockily.

Like their friend Christian, Jakub, parlayed his experience with street fighting to the boxing arena with varying degrees of success. They both fought in the boxing arena operated by Herr Morgan. Jared may hate his job, but he at least doesn’t find his employer contemptible.

“Besides,” Jakub continues, “the Nazis care more about the girls than they do about us.”

“Why do you come here?” Jared asks, considering Jakub’s opinion of the owner.

“Because Jared,” Jakub says solemnly, “I have a limited amount of time left on this earth, so I’m going to have fun.” Jared’s not sure this place or the hedonistic lifestyle Jakub has adopted would qualify as fun.

“I can’t function in the real world like you, none of us can. Your job may be beneath you, but you can function in the outside world. You’ve always had the potential.” He takes a sip of his absinthe. “ _Mein Gott_ , you convinced the party that you’d make a decent representative in the Reichstag. If this world wasn’t so fucked up, you could make something of yourself, Jared. I can’t, so I spend my time boxing and loving one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. I’m a soldier without a war, and we don’t function well during peace.”

Together the table nods their heads in agreement with Jakub’s speech. Jared tries to keep down the lump in his throat by focusing on his drink. He had no idea his friends had felt this way; he thinks it’s a sad statement about his life that they’ve once again become aimless veterans of a losing cause.

Instead of coming up with a suitable reply, Jared decides to change the subject, “So, you’re telling me that Ackles hasn’t touched you here?”

“Nope,” Jakub says. “It all stays on the streets.”

Suddenly, a piano cuts through the noise of the crowd, effectively cutting off their conversation. Its beginning is a composition that has origins in cabaret music, but is far too well crafted to be considered typical. Intricate lines of exotic harmony and jazz rhythms weave around a recognizable melody from a popular patriotic song from the war. It’s a fascinating mix of musical influences. It draws his attention to the stage, but it’s too dark to see who’s playing.

“And that is the other reason I come here,” his brother whispers, pointing his glass towards the stage, “Jensen Ackles is one of the best composers in Berlin.”

 _Jensen Ackles composed this?_ thinks Jared. Jensen Ackles was a good friend of Genevieve Cortese, Jakub’s lover, and in Jared’s opinion had the misfortune of being Johannes Ackles’ younger brother. Jared hadn’t met him, he’d been elsewhere during the handful of times Jensen was in their apartment in the past eight months since his brother introduced them to Genevieve. What he’d heard about Jensen was enough to pique his interest, since he seemed to have all the curiosity and intellectual bent that the rest of the Ackles family lacked.

“The second child of our beloved Anton Ackles,” Jakub says. “He’s utterly different from the rest.” He shrugs, “I don’t know why.”

Jared’s breathe catches, when a green spotlight illuminates a solitary figure at the piano. A man, who has to be the most beautiful person in existence, he looks like the template for the _Ariers_ : dark blonde hair, pale skin that reflects the translucent green hue of the spotlight, and a profile crafted by a sculptor’s hand. Despite the very beautiful face, the rest of him is extremely masculine. He’s broad and well muscled contained by his costume that consists of a pair of black pants, suspenders, and a partially unbuttoned dress shirt; it’s like someone began undressing him just before this performance, but he couldn’t be bothered to dress himself again. He’s the type of good-looking man that could inspire sin in any person. The perfect performer for club named _Erbsünde_.

Time slows as Jared sits enraptured watching those capable hands moving across the keyboard, spinning out his incredible brand of music. Watching Jensen play and being privy this extraordinary moment has Jared irrevocably hooked. He needs to meet this man. Jared closes his eyes and lets the music wash over him.

The piano stops, and he’s jolted out of his reverie by a husky female voice announcing, _"Meine Damen und Herren, Wilkommen in Erbsünde, wo wir ihre tiefsten Sehnsüchte erfüllen."_

 _If that is possible. I’d like a night with Jensen Ackles,_ Jared thinks.

The mistress of ceremonies is a middle-aged woman that still has all the sensuality and desirability of women half her age. She’s dressed in a black corset, men’s pants, and a long coat. She moves among the crowd, cracking jokes and making bawdy comments to the men. If his mind weren’t occupied with Jensen, who left his post at the piano, he would probably be thoroughly entertained by this woman’s flirtatious and outgoing personality.

"Looks like Jared has a bit of a crush,” observes Christian, as Jared looks around the room, and he sets Jared’s glass with some sugar cubes. “I bet you’re enjoying yourself now?”

Jared blushes and grabs the absinthe, using the ritual of slowly pouring it over the sugar cubes and watching the opaque color bloom to school his thoughts away from Jensen Ackles. Hoping that if he doesn’t react, they will move on and he can deal with his attraction to Jensen in peace.

Jakub, unfortunately, continues the conversation instead of putting him out of his misery. _Arschloch_. “You all owe me Reichmark,” he says jovially, holding out his hand to the table expectantly, “You all thought he wouldn’t be interested in Ackles. Let me tell you, Jared may be a Comrade and a Pole, but he has always been attracted to those perfect Aryans.”

Jared wants to refute this charge, but his past lovers have all been tall, blond, pale, and blue eyed. In other words _Arier_ , so he really has no ground to stand on. They have also all been very effeminate, which he doesn’t think the Nazis approve of for their idealized heroes. While Jensen is blondish and very beautiful, there is nothing effeminate about him; he’s fit as opposed to dainty.

Jared chooses to ignore them in favor of searching for Jensen. He pauses to watch the women dancing with wild abandon to a raucous jazz number. Part of him wonders if Jensen ever participates in such performances, but he didn’t strike Jared as the type to lose control in public. Granted, this opinion is based on seeing the man play piano, but it plays into Jared’s fantasy of making a very uptight Jensen lose control. Composers seemed to be like that.

  


“Now, now,” Chris says, and Jared can’t really believe that they’re continuing this conversation. “Jared hasn’t confirmed any interest in Jensen Ackles.”

Jakub smirks, “Believe me he’s interested.”

Jared’s efforts are rewarded when finds Jensen in the audience, watching the performance onstage from his brother’s table. He’s still dressed to perform, which leads Jared to believe that he’ll be up on stage again at some point during the night. Next to him sits a petite blond woman who’s pouting, possibly because she’s not the center of Jensen’s attention.

Jared wishes he was close enough to see Jensen’s face in greater detail, but as it stands he’s too far away. From what he can make out; Jensen’s features seem finer than his brother’s, not delicate, but more refined. What he really wants to see, though, are Jensen’s eyes, he wonders if they’d view him with the same disdainful gaze his brother holds him with. Jared has an overwhelming urge to be near him, to know for sure.

It’s why Jared stands up and walks towards Jensen. His brain knows that this is incredibly stupid. Jensen is sitting with his brother, who is a Nazi and probably wants him dead, he shouldn’t even be considering going over there. However, the logical part of his brain isn’t in control, not with all that alcohol and some unseen force is pulling him to Ackles’ table. He barely registers Jakub’s admonishment of “Jared!” behind him; just keeps walking towards Jensen. Jensen, who’s walking towards him held in a similar trance. When he comes closer, Jensen turns and Jared’s finally looking into Jensen’s moss-green eyes and down to his lips.

The spell is broken when Johannes forcibly pulls Jensen away.

The first thing Jared realizes once he comes back to himself is that Jakub is standing next to him, ready to defend him. It comforts Jared to know that his brother always has his back.

“I thought I told you to stay away from us, _Polacke_ ,” Johannes Ackles says angrily. He stands protectively in front of his brother. Jensen still looks shell shocked.

Jakub rests a restraining hand on Jared’s shoulder to signal that they intend no harm. Jared thinks that Nazis are like very vicious dogs and you need to treat them as such. You either had to intimidate them, or pretend to be submissive, it really depends on the situation and how well armed you are. From past experience, Jared knows it is always a good idea to be submissive around Ackles, especially since he is important in the Nazi’s Berlin organization, not just some street thug; if antagonized he could actually do some damage. Jared really couldn’t have chosen a worse person to desire in this man’s younger brother.

Jared shrinks, making his height less imposing and replies calmly, “I meant no harm. Let’s not turn this into something more than it is.”

“You’ve been told to stay away from us, yet you dare come over here,” Johannes Ackles says in a very threatening tone. _If Johannes Ackles is a dog, Jared thinks, he would be baring his teeth and growling at them._ “This act reflects your lack of respect for your betters, and that can’t go unpunished.” He steps closer to Jared, but Jensen halts his progress by stepping in front of him.

Jared notices that the activity in the club has ground to a halt and everyone’s eyes are on them. Everyone is incredibly tense and on edge. They’ve attracted the notice of a tall and distinguished man walking towards them, if Jared had to hazard a guess he would say this is the proprietor Herr Morgan, he’s looking extremely annoyed at the disruption.

“Johannes,” Jensen says with soothing tone that would be appropriate for trying to calm an aggressive animal. “I’m sure that Herr…” Jensen pauses, as if expecting Jared to introduce himself.

“Padalecki,” Jared supplies after a beat too long. In his defense his brain is not really functioning at a high level because of his nerves, so it takes a moment to realize Jensen has no idea who he is since they’ve never been introduced.

Jensen’s lips curve into an odd smile of recognition, and then he repeats, “I’m sure that Herr Padalecki did not come over to our table with violence in mind. Would that be correct, Herr Padalecki?” The words rolls off Jensen’s tongue with a lilt; the cadence of his voices is melodic, softer, and beautiful like the man himself, pleasing to ear the way German has never been before.

“That’s correct,” Jared answers. “I wanted to speak with you about your music. I have never heard you play and I wanted to compliment you on your incredible composition.” He takes a deep breath, “I hadn’t thought to find music reminiscent of Bartok in a cabaret.” He hopes he sounds intelligent and that his guess about Jensen’s musical influence is correct and hasn’t just insulted him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Johannes Ackles looks both confused and insulted; he probably has no idea who Bartok is, and is falling back on the idea that sounding like Bartok is an insult. Jensen, however, is smiling and Jared feels a wave of relief that he didn’t just make a complete fool of himself.

“You see, brother,” Jensen says calmly. “Herr Padalecki just wishes to discuss music with me. There is no reason to make a big deal about something so simple.”

“What could this one know about music?” Johannes Ackles asks with disdain, not buying for a second that Jared could have a cultured bone in his body.

It takes all of Jared’s will power not to spit out, _Clearly, I know more than you, since I can identify Bartok’s compositional style_. But that wouldn’t help diffuse the situation.

“I don’t know, brother,” Jensen replies. “We will never find out unless we ask him.”

“We do not associate with them, Jensen,” Johannes Ackles says sternly. Jensen looks like he’s about to refute that statement. But the man, Herr Morgan, Jared presumes, makes his presence known.

“Aber meine Herren,” the man says in a scratchy voice. “Are you done here?”

“Yes, Herr Morgan,” Jensen says and gives his employer an apologetic smile. Jared feels embarrassed for Jensen; he would die of shame if his brother caused such a ruckus in a public place.

Well then,” Herr Morgan continues. “Herr Ackles, I suggest that you go back to enjoying the show.” He turns to Jared. “I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask you and your party to leave my club, Herr Padalecki.” Jared’s not surprised, after all Ackles has the bigger political clout and could probably get this club shut down if he truly desires. “We’ll leave quietly,” he says, it isn’t really worth making a fuss.

“Jensen,” Herr Morgan orders. “Backstage.”

“Yes sir,” Jensen replies and without further ado walks away. Jared tries not to feel disappointed that Jensen hadn’t given him a further glance, but he assumes it probably wouldn’t go over well with Johannes Ackles, who is still standing behind Jensen.

With one last glance at Jensen’s retreating back, he walks back to their table; Jakub following close behind. “Come on, let’s go,” Jakub says to the group and he throws down enough Reichmark to cover the bill. “We should get out of here before Jared causes us more problems.”

They leave the club proper for the foyer, and just before he reaches the entrance Genevieve Cortese stops Jared. She’s in costume, a loose maroon silk chemise and black stockings that leave very little to the imagination. Her chestnut brown hair is cut into a fashionable bob, which accentuates her rather beautiful face. He’s surprised she comes to him, rather than propelling herself towards Jakub.

“Jensen asked me to give you this,” she presses a piece of paper into his hand. Jared smiles, _Jensen is interested_. “I don’t have much time. So, tell Jakub I’ll see him at the usual place.” Without another word she hurries through a stage door.

Jared fiddles with the note. It’s written on staff paper of all things, where on earth would Jensen keep paper on hand while performing? Or why does he need staff paper? Did he have a compulsive need to compose all the time, a constant stream of music playing in his head that needed to be put to paper before they disappeared? It’s a weird thing to have, but it seems to fit the image of dedicated composer that Jared has built in his head. He imagines Jensen sitting somewhere completely lost to the music in his head and smiles.

Jared excitedly opens the note, it’s short and says nothing more than: _1 o’clock, Schönhauser Allee 39, - Jensen_

Jared folds the note and places it in his pocket. Jensen’s made the first move, now he just has to decide if he wants to meet Jensen. He’s attractive, intriguing, and they have a connection, but logically, Jared thinks becoming involved with Jensen could be a colossally bad idea. It’s still early, there’s plenty of time to think about whether he wants to suffer the potential consequences of a starting something with Jensen.

Jared pushes through the street doors of the club and finds his group. They all look even more annoyed with Jared for keeping them waiting, on top of being asked to leave.

“What held you up?” his brother asks curtly.

“Genevieve,” Jared replies, and his brother’s annoyance melts away at the mention of _seine Geliebten_ . “She says she’ll meet you at the regular place.” He’s not ready to tell Jeff about Jensen’s note, not until he knows for sure how to respond.

“Good,” Jakub wraps an arm around his shoulder pulling him away to the nearest _Straßenbahn_. Their friends falling in line.

A couple hours later, they’re sitting around the worn kitchen table in Jared’s apartment drinking cheep vodka. After piling on Jared for his embarrassing behavior at _Erbsünde_ , they began to discuss boxing. Normally, Jared would be interested, but hashing out Chris’ chances against _Der Deutsche_ tomorrow night doesn’t hold a candle to the monumental decision of whether to see Jensen.

Hours after Genevieve handed him Jensen’s note and he’s no closer to a decision. Jared can’t decide which matters more: his visceral connection to Jensen or his doubts about Jensen’s sincerity and if he’s been able to avoid his family’s influence. “Fuck it,” he says before downing the rest of his vodka, slamming it back down on the table. Jakub’s right, he’s already dead so he should at least spend the rest of his life in the arms of a beautiful and intriguing man. He’s going to see Jensen. He removes the note from his pocket to double check that he still has time.

Five pairs of eyes are looking at him curiously for his outburst, “Jared,” his brother speaks up first, and is looking at him like he’s possessed. “What’s going on?”

“I'm about to get involved with someone you’ll disapprove of,” Jared replies. He’s being purposefully vague, wanting to delay his brother’s inevitable lecture for a few moments longer. He flattens the note out on the table, smoothing out the scrunched up paper. His brother’s eyes follow the action, but he doesn’t comment.

“Does Jared have a crush?” Michael Rosenbaum coos from across the table, “That’s so sweet.” Rosenbaum shoulders Brock Kelly, who’s sitting to his right. “Kelly, it looks like you lost the competition for Jared.”

Brock used to have a crush on Jared, which he got over years ago. Yet, Rosenbaum, the ass that he is, continues to bring it up. Brock and Jared exchange baleful looks, and the younger man rolls his eyes and finishing off his shot of vodka; resolutely ignoring Rosenbaum.

Rosenbaum, thwarted from getting a rise out of Kelly, directs his attention back at Jared. “So Jared, who is this mystery man?”

Jared gulps and says, “Jensen Ackles.” He braces himself for their objections.

“Jared,” Jakub responds, “That’s not wise.”

“I know,” Jared agrees, “It’s a bad idea to get involved with an Ackles.”

“No,” Jakub says, “As far as I know he’s not …”

“A 175.”Jared finishes. Fucking Hell, Jared swears, his behavior in the klub takes on a whole new light. It worked out in the end, but he almost revealed himself to the Nazis because of a man he hadn’t confirmed was a homosexual. It’s the type of idiocy that would get him killed or thrown in jail. “So why the bet?” he asks curiously.

Jakub turns to Christian who shrugs. “Jensen’s a monk,” Jakub explains. “We hadn’t seen or heard about him with anyone in the eight months we’ve known him. Gen probably knows, but she’s pretty protective of Jensen’s privacy.” He nods at Christian, “Chris and I had our suspicions, and we wondered which one of us he would go for. This led us to wondering if you would go for the guy, since he seems to be your type. Chris thought that Jensen wasn’t attractive enough for you to get past the fact that he is an Ackles. People took sides, money was exchanged.”

“Is that the whole reason you wanted me to go to _Erbsünde_?” Jared asks. “Just to win a bet?”

“No,” Jakub replies. “The point was for you to have some fun and relax somewhere other than a Kneipe, or Morgan’s boxing ring. Besides, the bet was hypothetical anyways, just curiosity about your taste in men.”

“Glad you can profit from my idiocy,” Jared jokes.

Chris points at the note and asks, “Who’s the note from?”

“Jensen,” Jared replies. “He wants to meet tonight.”

“So Jensen Ackles is a 175?” asks Chris.

“Yes.”

“You’re actually considering starting something?” Jakub’s tone is incredulous.

“I’m going,” Jared replies, he’s not lingering on his consideration anymore.

“He’s gutsier than I gave him credit for if he’s willing to suffer his family’s wrath to be with you.”

“Jared, are you really thinking logically?” Christian continues the inquisition. “I get that you think he’s pretty, but he’s an Ackles.”

“Jared,” Jakub’s stern tone makes him feel like he’s a disobedient child again. “How do you know if he’s sincere? He could be trying to trap you?”

“He’s a friend of yours,” Jared argues. “Surely, you don’t think him capable of that?”

“More of an acquaintance,” replies Christian. “We tolerate him because he is a friend of Genevieve. But, Genevieve might not have the best judgment, since she was at one point friends with Danneel Harris, Johannes Ackles’ mistress.”

“Hey,” Jakub protests, and Chris gives him an apologetic look.

“Sorry, that isn’t a sign of good judgment,” Chris says. “I will admit that he can be good company, but that doesn’t mean we like him or forget what his family has done to us or the cause over the years.”

“If he is like them, then he wouldn’t be interested in me,” Jared counters, they’re being rather unfair to Jensen. “It sounds like you haven’t given him a chance.”

“Jared,” his brother warns. “Giving Johannes Ackles any more ammunition is not good, sleeping with his brother is definitely giving him more ammunition.”

“You said that we’re all dead men anyways, so why not spend it in the arms of a beautiful woman.” He doesn’t mean to be angry with Jakub, he just hates it when Jakub doesn’t show any faith in another person’s good intentions. “Well you have Gen, and maybe I can have Jensen.”

Jakub frowns, but Jared knows he’s won the argument.

“But Genevieve isn’t a Nazi,” Rosenbaum continues the argument.

“A true Nazi wouldn’t compose like Bartok.” They probably don’t understand the implications of that, but it’s a valid argument. What Nazi would actually infuse their music with Hungarian folk harmonies? It’s not possible. “They wouldn’t allow foreign influences to ‘corrupt’ their music.”

“You haven’t heard Jensen argue with your brother about Chopin,” says Christian. “He becomes very nationalistic, and I believe he referred to Chopin as a _Musikanten_. I haven’t heard either, but from your brother’s reaction it was definitely an insult.”

Jared can imagine the conversation; his brother can become rather passionate in his defense of Chopin. But Jakub’s passionate about most of the famous artists that come from Poland. For whatever reason, his brother loved the composer, and whenever they could afford tickets they went to any concert where someone performed his music. His brother’s staunch defense probably drove Jensen to madness, Jared’s experienced it before.

“I hate Chopin, does that make me a Nazi?” It’s a low blow, but if you’re judging someone’s political beliefs on his musical taste then why not apply it to everyone.

Jared eyes his brother for some approval and Jakub looks thoughtful. “He’s not as bad as they make out. Honestly, I don’t know him that well since he doesn’t seem to open up to people easily. I respect and admire him as a composer; he has an incredible amount of talent.” Jared waits for Jakub’s objections. “But, he is still an Ackles and I don’t know how much his family has influenced his world view. Gen says he’s a good friend, but he could be hiding his prejudices from us.” Jakub shrugged. “Like Chris said he doesn’t open up to people easily and I don’t know him very well. So, I would say be wary.”

 _Wary of what?_ They were already headed to either the goal or the noose. Jared would be incredibly surprised, if he were still alive or still out of prison by the end of the year. The Nazis were gearing up towards something. They’d already removed the undesirables from the universities, how long before they went after the remaining opposition? Even though they were nobodies now, they’d pissed off Johannes Ackles enough over the years that he would probably use it as an excuse to get rid of them.

“I have to see him, Jakub,” Jared pleads. “I…” he pauses to try and find the words to accurately describe his desire to be with Jensen, how enthralled he is by Jensen, how much he needs this man that he barely knew. Jakub nods in understanding; they were close enough that there were times they didn’t need to speak to get their points across.

“Well, if you can’t be reasoned with rationally,” says Rosenbaum. Jared is really tired of this conversation. “Think about how the sex will be, because he seems like a _Niete im Bett_. Yes, he’s beautiful. But he probably is so inexperienced that he doesn’t know what to do with himself, so he just lies there.”

Jared hadn’t really given any thought the Jensen’s sexual experience. Is the man so closeted that he hadn’t been with a man before? This didn’t seem entirely out of the question considering his background. He’d slept with a Nazi once, someone pretty low on the totem pole and it was a horrible experience. The guy, kid really, had been equal parts upset and aroused that he had bent over for a man. The kid had gotten off, but it was incredibly awkward when he collected his clothes with tears in his eyes.

“He’s a musican who works in a club called _Erbsünde_ ,” Jared points out, emphasizing the name of the club. “I bet he is _außergewöhnlich gut_ , so I’m going to go for it.”

“I hope that you’re right,” Chris warns, “because if Johannes Ackles catches you with his brother he’s not going to wait for official approval to rip you apart. Being _einer ignoranter Vollidiot_ better be worth it.”

Rosenbaum raises his glass and then says, “ _Auf dass er keine Niete im Bett ist!_ ”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jared says and pours enough vodka into his empty glass to drink in one go. He sits across from Rosenbaum, looking him straight in the eye, it wouldn’t do to look away and curse himself with bad sex, since he really didn’t have seven years. In unison, he and Rosenbaum say, “Auf Jensen Ackles!” before clinking their glasses together, and then tapping the table; he swallows everything down feeling the burn of the cheep alcohol down his throat. For the first time, he actually feels good about life.

Jensen arrives at his apartment at a quarter to one. It’s for the best because it gives him less time to freak out about Jared’s arrival and the preparing that it entails. It’s been years since Georg’s death, and by extension years since he invited another man back to his apartment. He feels out of his element. Even worse, he doesn’t know if Jared would show up. Jared was interested, but once the heat of the moment was gone and Jared thought about who Jensen was, would Jared be willing to take the risk of being with him?

Upon entering the sitting area, he sees that it’s incredibly messy, especially around the piano. Sheet music is strewn across the top of the piano or in messy piles on the floor. He sighs, looking at the piles around the piano, realizing once again that he needed to organize his music. He doesn’t have time for that now, so he sets about collecting the strewn sheets into tidier stacks on top of the piano. He sighs when he sees the bench in front of his Clavichord by the bookshelf is similarly piled with papers. _Why am I allergic to shelves?_ Jensen wonders, before returning the music to its rightful place on the bottom of the bookshelf nearby.

It’s something to do while waiting, but it doesn’t entirely succeed in settling his nerves. After quickly tiding up the sitting area, he rushes over to his bed where some of his clothes lie on the floor. He stuffs them into his wardrobe. Deciding his apartment is tolerably clean, he looks at his watch, which reads five minutes to.

His suit jacket feels to warm and constricting, so he strips it off and hangs it up in his wardrobe. It’s one in the morning; the impropriety of seeing someone in his or her shirtsleeves doesn’t matter. It isn’t like Jared hadn’t seen Jensen in something even more improper earlier.

Still feeling restless, he makes his way to the Clavichord rolling up his sleeves in the process. He’s thankful that it survived his move back to Berlin. He’s always found that playing calms his nerves and the Clavichord is quiet enough that he can play something at really weird hours without disturbing his neighbors. By rote he begins playing his favorite CPE Bach Sonata, loosing himself in the music while he waits.

A knock at the door disrupts Jensen’s playing. He checks his watch; it’s a little past one, which means the person at his door is hopefully Jared. Relief washes over him when he sees him standing at his door as Jensen opens it. Jared smiles and Jensen’s heart beat a little faster. Jensen can’t really believe that Jared’s actually came.

Jensen pulls the door open further. “Herr Padalecki, please come in.”

Jared laughs. “Herr Padalecki, aren’t we beyond formality?” he asks as he enters Jensen’s apartment.

Jensen blushes a little. “We were never really introduced,” he says closing the door behind Jared.

“Let’s rectify that.” Jared turns towards him and holds out his hand. “Jared.”

“Jensen,” he says and he takes the offered hand and shakes it firmly, letting go after a moment’s pause.

Jensen walks to the cabinet by the couch, the one where he keeps his spirits. After a moment’s consideration, Jensen decides to break out the bottle of _Obstler_ a friend brought from Wien when he visited last month. It seems fitting to break into the expensive drink on this occasion. Jensen takes two glasses, and the bottle, and places them on the top of the cabinet. He pours himself a glass, and then asks Jared, if he’d like a drink.

“Bitte.”

Jensen pours Jared a glass and hands it to him, hoping that his hand isn’t shaking too badly. If Jared senses his nervousness, he doesn’t comment and takes the glass from Jensen’s hand. Jensen isn’t sure why he is so anxious; it isn’t as if he is a virgin or that this is the first man he’s brought back to his apartment. It’s been a while, but that doesn’t account for the butterflies in this stomach. Maybe it’s the fact that he really _likes_ Jared.

Jared raises his glass. “Zum Wohle!”

“Zum Wohle!” Jensen says and clicks his glass against Jared’s.

It’s disconcerting the way that Jared keeps his gaze on him for the toast. Yes, you’re supposed to look them in the eye, but Jared’s intense focus is bordering on obscene. Jensen tips back the glass, the relishing the sweetness of the _Obstler_. Jared’s eyes track the action, and Jensen has the feels like he’s a mouse being watched by a cat; his every movement tracked and catalogued.

“Would you like to sit down?” Jensen gestures to the couch to their left.

Jared doesn’t move towards the couch, instead he calmly sets down his glass. _Still full_ , Jensen observes. Jensen makes a move towards the couch, and finds himself crowded up against the wall with Jared looming over him. Jared’s scrutiny is intense, those beautiful hazel eyes bore into him like Jared’s trying to see deep into his soul and it makes Jensen fidget.

One of Jared’s hands curls around the back of his head, thumb moving back and forth through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, the other cupping his cheek. He’s looking at Jensen expectantly, waiting for Jensen’s approval to make that final move. Jensen leans into the hand touching his cheek hoping that’s enough permission, because he can’t really form a coherent thought at this moment. Jared smiles and leans forward to place a light kiss on his lips before pulling away.

Jensen finds such a chaste kiss unacceptable. He pulls Jared back, sealing his mouth over Jared’s. Jared’s tongue presses insistently at his lips, for him to open up, and he lets Jared in. Jared is taller and Jensen angles his head up to give Jared better access and the kiss goes from good to spectacular. Jared moves one of his hands down to Jensen’s hip, and pulls him in closer; erasing the last remaining inch of space between them.

Jared breaks the kiss first. Jensen closes his eyes against the loss and leans his forehead against Jared’s cheek, who’s thumb traces the curve of his jaw trembling slightly. Jared lifts his head to forcing Jensen to look at him, and his thumb moves across Jensen’s lips.

“I wanted to do that the instant I saw you at the club,” Jared says tenderly.

“I thought you wanted to discuss my music,” Jensen jokes.

Jared laughs and he kisses Jensen softly. “That too.”

Jensen moves away and heads to the couch grabbing the bottle and glass on the way. He carefully sets them on the table, sits down, and pours himself another. When he turns back, he finds Jared is sitting on the couch watching Jensen like he’s the most fascinating person in the world. Jensen sits there quietly, wondering how to begin. For the life of him, he doesn’t know a decent conversation starter. Luckily, Jared takes the onus away from him.

“So, the guys brought up some valid questions, that I think I need to know before we go any further.”

“I wasn’t aware that I had to interview for a place in your bed, Jared,” Jensen replies in a sardonic tone.

“I feel that if I let you into my bed I won’t be able to let you go,” Jared says seriously and Jensen has to admire the fact that he’s laying everything out on the table. “If you turn out to be like your brother, I ..”

“I understand,” Jensen says taking a sip of his _Obstler_ and motions for Jared to begin his interview.

“So what are you opinions on Jews?”

 _Of course he begins with that_ , Jensen thinks. It’s a valid question considering what’s happened in the past year, so Jensen replies, “Some of my best friends in Wien were Jewish.” _Also my lover of four years_ , Jensen adds to himself. But this was the time to bring that sordid tale up. “Honestly, people are people, we contribute in different ways to the world.” He supplies this last part in an effort to make this process move along quicker, knowing in the direction Jared’s questions were heading.

“Even Chopin,” Jared says. “I have it on good authority that you believe Chopin a _Musikanten_?”

Jensen groans, thinking about the many conversations he’s had with Jakub about music where they both very adamantly defended the composers of their homeland. In Jensen’s defense, this usually happens when he’s drunk, and tends to become more patriotic while under the influence. Jensen couldn’t just idly sit by and let Jakub sing the praises of Chopin as God’s gift to music. He finds that this personality trait also helps appease the philistines that called his music _entartet_ , his brother included, by toning down the more _avante guarde_ qualities of his music.

“Well he’s inferior because he’s too flashy, not because he’s Polish. I do love the great German composers, but then I’m a German, so it’s probably natural that I feel more of an affinity for them. Chopin, he’s fun to play, but I am not moved by his music.”

“I don’t like Chopin either.” Jared gives him a sly smile. “I don’t hold your opinion of him as proof of racism. Besides someone so influenced by Bartok can’t be too racist.”

Jensen can’t hold back his smile. “You noticed?”

Jared nods. “It’s why I wanted to talk to you, I’ve heard Bartok before, but I didn’t think there would be a German who would be influenced by his music.”

“It’s probably true,” Jensen agrees, “German composers are much more interested in reaching back into their own history instead of another’s. I was just drawn to Bartok. It sounds completely wild and unhinged.” He paused trying to think of the words to describe the tonal characteristics of the pentatonic system. “More earthy and less put together.”

Jared nods. “I’ve only heard his music a couple of times. There was a concert a couple of months ago that I went to with Jakub. The pianist played many contemporary pieces, but the one that really stuck with me was Bartok’s Nine Little Pieces. It just sounded so toll.”

Jared motions towards the bottle of _Obstler_ with his empty glass. “May I?”

“How do you like it?” he asks as he fills Jared’s glass for him.

“It’s good,” Jared replies. “Sweeter than I’m used to.”

“Have you ever had _Obstler_ before?” he asks out of curiosity, Obstler is not a very popular drink in Northern Germany, especially Berlin.

“No, I haven’t,” Jared replies and he sounds embarrassed by this omission, like not drinking Obstler before made him might’ve made him seem uncultured to Jensen. It is just alcohol, the Austrian equivalent of Vodka.

“I’m glad you like it,” Jensen replies cheerfully. “It’s my favorite drink. I really grew to love it when I was in Wien. A friend of mine was visiting last month and he brought me back a bottle.”

Jensen finishes off the rest of his glass and decides not to drink more; he wants to be somewhat sober for whatever comes. He’s feeling pleasantly buzzed from the alcohol already and that’s enough.

“So, you’ve been to Wien?” Jared inquires. “What’s it like?”

“I studied music at the Universität and then stayed,” Jensen replies. “It was the best time of my life.”

Jensen tries to think about how to describe the differences between Berlin and Wien. He had long thought that his ability to convey emotions and imagery through music, his own or another’s, had robbed him of any ability to be a decent conversationalist. Right now, words seem to fail him.

Jared’s, “Jensen,” brings him out of his own head and back to the conversation at hand. He looks at Jared whose brows are knitted in confusion. “I didn’t think it was that hard of a question,” Jared teases.

“It’s not,” Jensen replies. “I just don’t think I can adequately describe the difference, I’m not very eloquent.”

Jensen has an idea. He stands up and makes his way towards the piano. At Jared’s confused expression, he says, “Follow me.”

Jensen sits down at the familiar bench, feeling more comfortable. Jared leans on the piano, looking curious about what Jensen’s doing. “I can’t describe it for you with words,” Jensen smiles, “but I can with music.” Jared nods, and to Jensen’s delight closes his eyes without Jensen having to tell him.

Jensen lifts his hands to the piano says, “This is Berlin,” and begins to play, a song with many themes that on a surface level seem disconnected, yet came together in the end to form a whole.

Berlin is exciting and modern. There is a progressive culture that’s allowed those that wanted to respect the past and use the lessons from it to move forward, not just resurrect traditions that didn’t seem to fit with the new world and ideas that were coming into their own after the wreckage of the Great War. It is a city for those looking to the future. He tries to convey all these things about Berlin that he loves; things that are slowly being destroyed by the Nazis.

He transitions into a slower and more leisurely composition by Brahms, which always made him think about being on a promenade through the Ringstraße. He hopes it sounds adequately grand enough to create the image of the imposing buildings and the even more imposing history of an Empire that had dominated Central Europe for centuries.

“Wien,” he says while still playing, “Is older and more staid, it’s a grander city.” He pauses at a particularly stately passage that emphasizes this characteristic. Letting the music speak for itself, since his purpose is to describe Wien through music, not words.

“It’s beautiful in a way that Berlin is not,” Jensen continues, “its grand buildings that are more artfully designed, without ceding to the requirements of modern life.”

He turns his focus back to the music. Having reached his favorite part of the piece; a series of suspensions that builds towards the final iteration of the melody, the built up tension finally resolved.

Jensen finishes and lifts his hands from the piano looking at Jared expectantly; waiting for his reaction. Jared is still leaning on the piano, resting his weight on the his arms with his fingers clasped together out in front of him forming a triangle, his head is tucked towards his chest making his dark hair fall forward to frame his beautiful face. His expression is serene with his eyes closed and mouth forming a blissful smile. Jared opens his eyes and looks at Jensen.

“So what did you see?” Jensen asks breaking the silence.

“Jensen,” Jared says, “it is beautiful, but I’ve never been to Wien so it didn’t conjure up any images of ...”

“You’re not supposed to see Wien,” Jensen interrupts. “You’re supposed to get a feeling about Wien, an impression,” Jensen pauses and then he adds, “a mood.” He clasps his fingers together and rests his arms on the keyboard.

“Berlin seems,” Jared says tentatively, his face screwed up in thought as he tries to find the words.

“Not so easy, huh,” Jensen mocks and Jared laughs in response. Jensen’s decides that he loves Jared’s laugh more than his smile. There’s something so wonderful about how uninhibited Jared is when he laughs.

Jared tries again, “Berlin seemed more hectic, contained more disconnected pieces that came together in the end, modern from the sound of the chords.” Jensen nods and Jared continues, “Wien seemed serious, less fun.”

“I have a great deal of affection for Wien,” Jensen counters. “I grew up there.”

Jared gives him a sly smile, like he knows some secret that Jensen doesn’t. “You may have grown up there, but you definitely find Berlin more fun.” Jared’s tone becomes more flirtatious, “I’m not in Wien, so it can’t be all that wonderful.”

The desire in Jared’s gaze is unmistakable, and for the first time in a while Jensen finds himself responding to someone’s heated gaze. He wants Jared.

Jared grasps Jensen’s hand and pulls Jensen up from the piano bench, wrapping his long arms around Jensen’s waist. Jensen burrows his head into Jared’s neck, placing a light kiss to the exposed skin of Jared’s neck. Jared un-tucks his shirt, and slides his hands underneath tracing along the dip in Jensen’s spine. Jensen moans at the feather-light touch.

Jared whispers, “I think we need to move this to the bed.”

Jensen responds by kissing Jared. After a moment of resistance; Jensen surrenders and lets Jared take control. He reaches for Jared’s coat pushing it down Jared’s shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He begins maneuvering Jared backwards to his bed, taking care that he doesn’t push Jared into the couch, while he un-tucks Jared’s shirt. Jared works the buttons of his shirt, never breaking the kiss.

They reach the bed and Jared falls back so that he’s lying across it. Jensen stands at the edge, taking in the picture before him. Jared looks good sprawled out like this. _He’s not nearly naked enough_ , Jensen observes. Jensen crawls atop and straddles Jared’s waist, working the buttons of Jared’s shirt. He can feel Jared’s hard length beneath his trousers and Jensen rolls his hips to rub his own hard cock against Jared’s. Jared moans and arches into him. As Jensen begins to reveal Jared’s undershirt, it’s pretty apparent the Jared is more muscled than the average man. Jensen undoes the last remaining buttons faster, desperately wanting to see Jared’s body for himself.

Jared sits up tugging at Jensen’s shirt. “Off,” he says.

Jensen complies and unrolls his sleeves. “You too,” he tells Jared as he removes his shirt and undershirt. Jared kisses him, his hands roaming down Jensen’s back.

“You’re gorgeous,” Jared says before placing open-mouthed kisses down Jensen’s chest. Jensen groans when Jared starts sucking at his nipple. He pulls at Jared’s undershirt yanking until Jared gets with the program lifting his arms and allowing Jensen better access. He is about to remove the shirt, when there’s a loud knocking, and they both freeze.

“Who?” Jared asks.

“I don’t …” Jensen begins.

He’s interrupted by another knock, louder this time, followed by an angry, “Jensen, open the door!”

Jensen jumps up, “Fuck,” he curses as he reaches for his shirt on the floor. He turns to look at Jared, who is sitting up, looking thoroughly confused. “My brother.”

Jared jumps off the bed, pulling on his shirt, he looks wild and frantic. Jensen can’t fault him, if Johannes catches him, Jared won’t live to see tomorrow. Jensen is thankful that he locked the door, preventing Johannes from coming in until Jensen’s ready. He grasps Jared’s hand, and leads him to the fire escape.

“Use the fire escape, it will put you in the ally next to my building,” Jensen says as he opens the window.

Jared makes his way towards the windowsill, but stops and turns around. He looks like he’s about to say something.

“Jared, we can’t be caught,” Jensen pleads with Jared, pushing him towards the window. “You need to go.”

Another loud knock on the door punctuates his statement.

Jared steps away from the window. “I understand.” Jared gives Jensen a quick kiss and it takes all Jensen’s willpower not to deepen the kiss. “When can I see you again?”

“Come to the club at noon, there’s a door in the back when you go through the alleyway, I’ll be there.”

Jared kisses him again and escapes into the night. Jensen hurries to the door to let in his angry brother.

Johannes Ackles becomes angrier and angrier, as his knocks remain unanswered. He knows without a doubt that his brother is delaying to secret a man out his apartment. He considers himself a reasonable man when it comes to Jensen. He’s indulged his younger brother for a long time. But that was before Jensen almost ruined their reputation by becoming the _Hausfreund_ of Georg Steinthal. He’s lost patience, because tonight was further proof that his brother has not reformed.

Johannes has his suspicions about who Jensen is with, and the thought of his brother with Jared Padalecki makes his blood boil. As if he needs more ammunition to hate Padalecki.

Thinking about his brother with another man is nothing compared to Jensen opening the door with the evidence of what he’s been up to all over him: kiss-swollen lips, mussed hair, his shirt barely buttoned up and rumpled. His brother also looks extremely guilty, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but not surprised that Johannes at his door.

Jensen steps aside to let him in and Johannes surveys the apartment. He interprets the open window leading to the fire escape as further proof that Jensen had been with someone that his family would find unsuitable.

Johannes turns around to face his brother, who has closed his door and is moving towards the coffee table where there’s a bottle and two empty glasses. Jensen looks flustered, and his hand shakes as he pours alcohol into one of the empty glasses. Jensen downs the glass in one go, and set it back down on the table.

His little brother stands there by the couch, eyes closed and head tucked in towards his chest, completely ignoring him. Jensen’s flustered expression morphs into a collected mask he has seen his brother wear since he returned to Berlin.

Jensen takes a breath and turns to Johannes, "What brings you here?" he asks calmly.

 _You know exactly why I’m here_ , Johannes thinks, _but I’ll indulge your delay tactic_.

"Jared Padalecki," Johannes says with disgust. "You were with him tonight?"

"No," Jensen says flatly.

Johannes knows that tone; his brother is lying to him. That his brother is lying means that he’s protecting Padalecki.

"You were with him!" Johannes steps forward into Jensen's personal space. “Don’t lie to me!”

Johannes clenches his fist in anger, hoping it will prevent him from striking his brother. He has never struck his brother. But it doesn’t help, his fist rises and it’s only his brother’s expression that keeps him from striking.

Jensen’s eyes are wide and fearful. Johannes has seen that look in the enemies he had killed, but he had never thought that his brother would look at him like that, like his brother expected the same treatment. Johannes drops his hand and turns away.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees a jacket lying on the floor. He kneels down to pick up it up. The cloth is too rough and it looks too large, to belong to his brother. “If not Padalecki,” Johannes says quietly, turning to face his brother and holding the jacket out for his brother to see. Jensen doesn’t react, though he still looks afraid. “Then who were you secreting out of your apartment?”

“You, honestly, think I would tell you?" Jensen asks incredulously. "I wouldn’t let you within ten feet of him. He wouldn’t survive the morning."

“That’s unfair,” Johannes protests.

“Unfair,” Jensen snorts, and shoots him an incredulous glance. “You didn’t touch me, but I bet in a heartbeat you’d either give him a serious beating, or more likely murder him.”

"Well maybe that would force you to realize the consequences of your actions!" Johannes spits out. Jensen needs to get past this; he needs to prove that he’s a man, Johannes seethes.

“My last lover was killed in a Viennese prison, of course I know the consequences.”

"Well, then abandon this path," Johannes pleads. He’s doesn’t want to see his brother in danger. "I thought you had moved passed this? I thought that you and Alona were courting?"

Jensen laughs and Johannes bristles, his brother is laughing at him.

"I am not courting Alona,” Jensen says once the laughter passes. “The idea is absurd." Jensen chuckles, “The idea of me with a woman is ridiculous.”

"Jensen you have responsibilities," Johannes replies Jensen needs to move past this, to take his place in the world. His brother was too old to be dallying as a musician. “Marriage is a duty for every able bodied man.”

“Marriage shouldn’t be a duty, Johannes,” Jensen says. “Why make a commitment to someone who will make you miserable for the rest of your life? Take Georg, for example, he married Evelyn out of duty and look how that ended.”

Johannes flinches at the mention of Jensen's former lover. His brother’s antics in Wien were a topic he never wanted mentioned in his presence.

"Or even you and Dianne. You both hate each other.”

"But, you were with Evelyn," Johannes prompts, choosing to ignore the comment about his wife. This was not a conversation about his marriage. “You can be with a woman.”

He’s knows he’s forcing Jensen to describe the gory details of that relationship, but he really needs to understand why his brother can’t act on such a normal impulse.

Jensen shakes his head, and Johannes knows his brother is about to tell him something he doesn’t want to here. "I've never been with a woman.” Johannes pales. “Evelyn and I were friends, but I was Georg’s. I've never been attracted to a woman, always men. Georg was the same; he married someone who understood his situation. When Georg fell in love with me, and our relationship became more than exorcising a need, their relationship fractured.”

Jensen’s mouth forms a rueful smile, and he looks away. “She loved him, so much that she was willing to suffer. It put a strain on everything; by the time everyone found out, their marriage was already crumbling. I’m still not sure why she decided to protect me.”

Jensen faces Johannes; everything about him from his posture to the gleam in his eyes was defiant. Johannes would be proud if his brother wasn’t making a stand against him to continue with his perversions. “I refuse to make a commitment to someone only to break that promise by bringing someone else into my marriage. Even if it is only a fantasy of the man I would rather be making love to. It's not fair to anyone."

Johannes knows that Jensen is circling around condemning him and Danneel. He knows she has suffered, but neither of them could give each other up. He also knows that as much pain as he is causing her he could never give up his marriage. His position in life and his responsibilities mean too much to him.

Jensen looks at him, and without hesitation twists the knife deeper into his heart by saying, "I could never be you."

Johannes stands there in stunned silence wondering why Jensen thought he had the higher moral ground, "The other woman is condemning me," Johannes replies choosing the most disgusting insult he can muster. "That's rich."

"I saw what it did to Evelyn,” Jensen says. “I promised myself I would never do that to a woman. I'm gay, there's nothing that can change it. I will promise you that I will be discreet, but I will not marry."

"What happened at the club was not discreet."

"Nothing happened at the club.” Johannes knows Jensen is lying, Jensen knows that he can’t really lie to him. Johannes’ early anger returns at such a disrespectful act. “Herr Padalecki was just interested in music, that’s all."

"Jensen, you will not see him again,” Johannes has his suspicions that his brother just saw Padalecki, but chooses to remain vague. His brother is not going to give him a straight answer. “You can’t afford this. You will ruin us."

"I won't give him up," Jensen says, his pleading expression for understanding moulds something bitter and forlorn, "It's not like he will be alive much longer, whatever purge the Nazis are planning will include him. He'll be dead by the end of the month."

That’s enough confirmation for Johannes that his brother’s new lover is Jared Padalecki. "Sooner," Johannes says with determination. Jared Padalecki trying to ingratiate himself with Jensen makes him more determined than ever to see that the Padaleckis and the “Comrads” are among the first to fall.

Jensen looks appalled, like Johannes is the devil incarnate. Johannes never thought that his brother would look at him with such revulsion.

“Johannes,” Jensen says, turning his back on him. “Please leave.”

Johannes cedes the last word to Jensen, knowing that if he stays here any longer he’ll either say or do something he’ll regret. He does as his brother requests and leaves, making sure to slam the door as he walks out.

[Next](http://weimar27.livejournal.com/6594.html)


	2. Chapter 2

  


Jared arrives at the corner of Friederichstraße and Oranienburgerstraße a couple of minutes before noon. This corner of Oranienburgerstraße is always busy. It’s frequented by the crowds at night garnering entrance to the clubs and during the day by those visiting the cafes.

Jared had realized, soon after leaving Jensen’s last night that Jensen failed to mention the location of the back door _Erbsünde_. But, he walks towards _Erbsünde_ , planning to go from there.

Fate must be in his corner as someone is exits _Erbsünde_ through the main door off of Orianenburgerstraße, just as he’s a few feet away. She’s reading something, a letter he thinks, and from her blissful smile he assumes that the letter is probably from a beau. He calls out, “Fräulein!” hoping to halt her exit.

She stops and glares up at him, which seems uncalled for and rude before asking icily, “You’re here for Jensen, I presume?” It’s more of a statement than a question.

Jared’s brows knits in confusion. He realizes she probably recognizes him from last night. However, he doesn’t know her and therefore hasn’t done anything to offend her, to justify such a hostile reception.

“Jensen is in rehearsal. You can wait backstage.” She looks him over, her disapproval and disdain for him written all over her face. She doesn’t bother holding the door open and she walks away in a huff.

Jared hurries to catch the door before he’s locked out. He’s really annoyed and makes a mental note to ask Jensen who that woman is and why she would have any cause to dislike him.

He enters the club, and the seedy glamour on display last night is gone. Most of the tables are bare, chairs pushed aside to make way for the man mopping the floor, another is wiping down the tables. He avoids them as he makes his way across the platform and to the stage.

Onstage the girls are practicing a number, under the watchful eye of an elegant, middle-aged woman. She is tall for a woman; light brown hair is swept up in an elegant bun. She reminds him of a drill sergeant watching his charges execute a new maneuver, keeping an eye out for any and all mistakes. The number incredibly well choreographed. The girls fly across the stage to a fast paced jazz tune, which has that twinge of exotic harmony that’s unmistakably Jensen’s trademark.

Jared scans the stage for the musicians, looking for Jensen. He’s not hard to find as he sits at the piano, front and center on the musician’s platform that juts out from stage right. Jared’s view is partially blocked by the piano and he steps back until he can get a full view of Jensen in his natural element. He takes a moment to admire the way that Jensen’s hands move over the piano with confidence born of both familiarity and natural ability.

Jensen practically glows with joy as he plays with the band. He had an inkling after last night, but he thinks that music is Jensen’s way of communicating. That he lacks the words to express his emotions and thoughts to the world. God gifted him with music instead, and it feels like he might be mute without it.

Last night, Jensen looked like a debauched Cabaret performer. Even when they’d met in private his clothing was more a concession to the cold weather of the night than any attempt at respectability. Now, Jensen is buttoned up and meticulously dressed. His finely tailored black suit perfectly pressed, dress shirt starched, and the tie tied with perfect care, even more shocking is that his hair is slicked back instead of falling loose and un-styled like last night. The transformation is stunning. If he didn’t know any better he would think that he is seeing Jensen’s more uptight twin.

The number finishes and the woman approaches the stage. The dancers quickly move from their positions, to gather at the front of the stage and listen to her critique. She must have wanted them to run through a move again, because the girls return to their positions. With agility he didn’t expect she demonstrates one of the sequences for the girls, moving slowly pausing as she completes each move. After going through the sequence at normal speed, she turns around and signals them to go through the sequence again. She claps and calls out the beats, running the girls through that section multiple times, until she seems satisfied and signals a run through of the entire song.

Jared hasn’t experienced Cabaret before. He hadn’t ever thought of entering a club, not until his brother finally convinced him to see Genevieve perform. He’s avoided these places previously; maybe it’s because he’s gay, but he’s never understood the appeal of watching practically naked women perform. Yet, watching the women dance with such raw sexuality he begins to understand the appeal. It’s probably for the same reason he likes to go to boxing matches, to watch the beauty on display.

Genevieve is the focus of this number. Like Jensen she seems in her element and moves with incredible grace and ease; all with a sultry smile on her face. He’s never understood the initial attraction. If he saw Genevieve on the street he would think she is pretty, but wouldn’t turn his head for another look. She’s not the most stunning performer at the club, which would be the redhead he passed on his way in. He wonders what Jakub sees when he watches Genevieve perform, if it’s anything like what he felt watching Jensen, he understands why Jakub was first attracted to her because when she’s on that stage she’s breathtakingly beautiful.

The number ends and the dancers stand there expectantly, still holding their positions. The woman approves and claps exclaiming, “Prima! Sehr Gut!” as she moves to the front of the stage. They break their poses and group at the front of the stage where the woman is now standing. After a few comments, the dancers disperse backstage chatting amongst themselves.

Genevieve lingers, and she and the woman engage in a brief conversation. They break apart, the woman heading backstage and Genevieve to the piano. She stands in the curve of the piano and leans forward facing Jensen, waiting for Jensen to finish giving instructions to the musicians.

After the musician’s begin packing up their things, Jared decides that it’s probably safe to reveal his presence to Jensen. They don’t notice him until he climbs the steps onto the platform.

Genevieve spies him first because she’s facing in his direction. “Jared,” she says warmly and she steps forward to greet him with a peck on each cheek. She was born in Köln, but she spent a lot of time in Paris before returning to her birth country so she acts more Parisian than German most of the time. “I’m surprised to see you.”

“Jensen invited me,” Jared replies and acknowledges Jensen, who has left the piano bench, with a nod. He’s not entirely sure what to do, since he’s never met a lover in public before and it feels awkward. How should he greet Jensen? Formally, as a friend … as a lover? Jensen solves the problem by shaking his hand casually and nothing more. Jared grasps the proffered hand, and if he holds onto Jensen’s hand a little too long relishing the contact, it’s no one’s business. He has mixed feelings about the fact that Jensen didn’t kiss him, but relief that someone in their relationship is showing some discretion. Kissing Jensen is not wise, the club might be accepting of homosexual behavior, but someone could turn them on the grounds of §175 if they really wanted to. Kissing had to wait until he found a hidden alcove backstage. The expression of longing of Jensen’s face makes up for the lack of kissing though.

Jared sees Genevieve looking at Jensen with a wistful expression. He’s confused until it dawns on him that their relationship is doomed. For a while, he’d forgotten that he is probably going to be killed by the Nazis in the not too distant future. They would never be able to get beyond this initial phase of attraction and be able to make a life together. Whatever potential their relationship has will never be realized. His regret at not meeting Jensen sooner returns, except now there’s an added feeling of guilt at the pain his death will cause Jensen. He will be the one left with the memories and have to live his life always wondering what could have been.

Genevieve coughs and Jensen blushes and removes his hand from Jared’s grip as he steps back.

“I’m glad you came,” Jensen says. “Gen and I need to practice a number that we’re performing tonight.” He points to the chairs previously occupied by the musicians. “You can sit over there while we rehearse. And when we’re through, we can go have coffee.” Jared nods in agreement, goes to sit in an unoccupied seat that had the least obstructed view of Jensen.

It’s weird that he hasn’t really heard Genevieve sing in the entire year he’s known her. None of their circle, aside from her, has any musical talent. There’s never been an occasion to hear her sing outside of the club. He’s heard from all of their friends that Genevieve is a very good performer and that he really should go see her. Maybe I shouldn’t have waited so long to come see her perform, he thinks morosely looking at Jensen. _I might have had more time with Jensen if I had come sooner_. He shakes off this thought, continuing to think of this regret is fruitless. He’s already done it far too much already in the past hour and it’s not going to change the future.

Genevieve gives Jensen a nod and he begins the piano introduction. The piece sounds like a traditional lieder; it’s pretty and seems entirely out of place in this club.

Then Jensen starts sing, and Jared stops caring about the oddity of the song choice, because Jensen’s voice is beautiful.

 _Make of our hands, one hand. Make of our hearts, one heart. Make of our vows, one last vow: Only death will part us now._

He has a strong and clear tenor that lacks the vibrato and affectation of most opera singers, but is too polished for him to not have had some training. Jensen’s looking at Jared as he sings. His moss green eyes are filled with love and his voice is expressing the love he feels for Jared. He finishes his verse and then looks away, back to the sheet music as he plays the interlude.

Genevieve’s has a similar quality, she sings in a pure, clear soprano. Jared has to agree her voice is very good.

 _Make of our lives one life, day after day, one life._

She too sings with a great deal of emotion, Jared wonders if she’s imagining his brother. Then as if the song couldn’t get any more beautiful, Jensen joins back in and their voices blend together in perfect harmony.

 _Now it begins, now we start. One hand, one heart; even death won't part us now._

Jensen’s not singing to him anymore, focusing on Genevieve instead. Jared picks up on the great deal of affection between the two. After a short musical interlude they begin the last verse together.

 _Make of our lives one life, day after day, one life. Now it begins, now we start. One hand, one heart, even death won't part us now._ *

As they finish Jensen looks at him, with a mixture of happiness, regret, and longing in his eyes. Jared thinks that his expression probably mirrors Jensen’s. Jared once again wishes, despite his earlier resolution not to, that he could know this spectacular man a lot longer.

Genevieve brakes the trance they’re in by asking, “So what did you think?” She’s leaning on the piano again, propping her head up with her right hand, the left arm resting on the piano, looking at him expectantly. Jensen also has the same eager expression.

“It’s a beautiful song,” Jared replies. Beautiful is a really inadequate way to describe the song, but he lacks the words to really explain his true opinion. His loss of words to express how good the song is frustrates him, and he understands some of Jensen’s pain. He stands up and walks over to the piano, he mirrors Genevieve’s pose. “Are you performing it tonight?” he asks them.

“Yeah,” Genevieve answers. “Some of the patrons were complaining about the immorality of our songs and Herr Morgan asked us to make some changes.” She sounds bitter at his request. “Although, why they went to our performances in the first place if they were so offended is beyond me. We are a Cabaret, you don’t come here for wholesome entertainment.”

“Not to mention that my music is _entartet_ ,” adds Jensen with a hint of amusement in his voice. His nonchalance at this charge of degeneracy worries Jared because it could get him in trouble down the road if someone of importance within the Nazi party agreed. Then again Jensen’s family is someone important in the Nazi party so he might be able to get away with all manner of bad behavior.

“We’re adding more traditional songs to our repertoire to please the heathens,” Jensen continues. “I wrote this for an assignment during school and Danneel’s performing a Schubert Lieder.” Jensen looks disgusted by this fact, and it’s so exaggerated that Jared chuckles, because Jensen seems entirely too distressed. Jared doesn’t particularly enjoy Schubert, or any music written before the turn of the century to be honest. They all sound the same to him so he can’t really see what the big deal about Schubert.

“It’s not funny,” Jensen says huffily, his lips forms into an adorable pout. “I have to play _Schubert_ ,” he whines the name Schubert like a petulant two year old complaining about his parents putting him to bed. Jared chuckles unsympathetically; Genevieve joins him, and Jensen shoots them both dirty looks.

“I know you like normal music, Jensen,” replies Jared; he really can’t understand the problem. “You played some last night.”

“That’s Brahms,” Jensen answers like he thought the name of the composer would make a difference to Jared, and he didn’t need to elaborate further. He says Brahms’ name in a reverent tone reminiscent of the way a Kommunist says Marx or Lenin, or the way he speaks about Rosa Luxemburg. If Jared knew more about earlier eras of music he would understand the reason for Jensen’s tone, but he doesn’t so identifying the composer really didn’t mean anything to him. Jared associates Brahms with the Nazis ideal of perfect German in his mind; for him to like or seek out anything written by the composer because of this association wouldn’t happen. Although in hindsight, Jensen could have a worse musical icon, he could love Wagner.

“It’s all the same to me,” Jared shrugs. “It’s normal music, the status quo.”

Jensen’s jaw drops at the statement, “I … I can’t believe you just said that.” Jensen turns away, and sulks as he fidgets with sheet music on the piano, muttering something; Jared only catches the words ‘Brahms’ and ‘insult.’

“What did I do wrong?” Jared asks Genevieve, since Jensen is still put out by his statement, and he didn’t realize calling Brahms’ music normal was an insult.

“Jared, a word of advice,” Genevieve beckons him to lean towards her with a conspiratorial wag of her finger. When he’s closer she says in a stage whisper, “If you’re going to continue seeing Jensen, never compare Brahms with Schubert, or describe Brahms as ‘normal’ music.” Then her eyes shift towards Jensen and she says in a mock conspiratorial whisper, “Jensen has a huge crush on the man.”

“I do not,” Jensen says defensively, the sheet music is now in a neat pile in Jensen’s hands. “I just think his music is transcendent, and the pinnacle of traditional tonal music.”

“Come on Jen,” Genevieve says in a teasing manner. “We both know that you would sleep with him in a heartbeat."

Jensen looks appalled at the implication and Jared gets the feeling that this is common banter among these two. “I would _never_ want to sleep with Brahms,” Jensen puts a great deal of emphasis on never. “He looked like a little boy for most of his life. Being manhandled by someone who looks like a boy is totally unappealing. We would just be too sexually incompatible for it to work.” Jared’s jaw drops. _Did Jensen realize he just said that?_ He exchanges an amused look with Genevieve. Clearly, Jensen didn’t realize he just told them way too much about himself, because without even a pause Jensen says, “I just happen to love his music.”

“So, you’ve given sleeping with Brahms a lot of thought, huh?” mocks Jared and Jensen blushes with embarrassment as what he just told them sinks in. Jared felt that just having an answer to this deserved some teasing, so he continued, “Is it just Brahms that you’ve fantasized about? Or have you wondered about sexual proclivities of say …” He taps his finger against his lips and pretends to think. “Bach?” He smiles. “I bet Bach would be a total Dom.”

Jensen sets down the pile of sheet music, and lunges at Jared making to playfully punch Jared in the arm with his left hand. Jared catches the arm and pulls Jensen into his arms, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s waist. This seemed like entirely natural at the time, but then he realizes that they are in public, and this is not appropriate behavior between two men. He and Jensen break apart instantly. Jared looks around wondering if anyone caught their slip up. No one seems to have noticed and a wave of relief washes over him.

“Well, I have to go meet Jakub for lunch,” Genevieve says cheerfully, but she shoots Jensen worried look. “I will leave you with _deinem Geliebten._ ” Jared doesn’t even blanch at the word, because it seems natural to describe him as Jensen’s beloved. She kisses Jensen on the cheek in farewell and nods to Jared before heading backstage.

“You two are pretty close?” Jared inquires when she’s out of sight.

“Yeah, we’re very close,” he replies fondly. “She and I have very similar sensibilities.” He shrugs, “We get each other.”

“It’s good that you have a close friend.”

“You and your brother seem close. I think my time in Berlin would be unbearable without her,” Jensen says, but doesn’t elaborate, considering what Jared knows of Jensen’s family he can imagine that life isn’t particularly great.

“Yeah, it’s been just us since my parents died before the war,” Jared replies. “Plus working to fight tooth and nail for a political party creates a great deal of camaraderie among people.”

“Shared life experiences do help,” Jensen agrees. “Gen and I formed a drinking group that she dubbed ‘The Masochists’. We get together and exchange tales of woe about our love lives. She thinks that we must be gluttons for punishment, considering the people we chose to love. Danneel used to belong, but she became so political and started acting like a total Schlampe towards Gen so we kicked her out.” Who is Danneel? Jared thinks furrowing his brow and Jensen supplies, “Danneel’s a singer at the club; she’s also my brother’s mistress. You probably saw her last night: she’s tall, brown-eyed, has auburn hair, rather pretty if you like women.”

“She’s the one who let me in the club,” Jared says. “She didn’t like me very much.”

Jensen doesn’t seem surprised by this. “Yeah, she’s really bought into the whole Nazi Dreck since she and my brother became a regular thing. It’s okay. Gen and I have replaced her with Dianne, my brother’s wife. She’s more enjoyable to be around than Danneel, since she doesn’t judge us for our life choices. Danneel is surprisingly straight-laced for a Cabaret singer.”

“Also taking the side of your brother’s wife and not being so sympathetic to the Nazis would put a cramp on your relationship,” Jared points out.

“Yeah,” Jensen says. There is a lull and then Jensen asks, “Would you like coffee? I know a good coffeehouse down the street.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Jared replies. “You can tell me about this group of yours and it will shed some light on Genevieve that I’m sure my brother doesn’t know.”

Jensen collects his music into a small briefcase and they head backstage. Jared keeps his eye out for a sufficiently hidden corner to pull Jensen into. It happens that under the stairs there’s a way to get underneath the stage, which works perfectly. He grabs Jensen’s hand, ignoring the man’s startled yell, and pulls him underneath.

Jared has to bend down in the cramped space under the stage, but it’s worth it because it’s private. Still holding Jensen’s hand, he leans back against a post, facing away from the entrance, and pulls Jensen into his arms. Jensen settles between his legs, and raises his arms to Jared’s neck. Jared leans down to kiss Jensen. At first Jensen just surrenders, letting Jared kiss him exactly the way he wants. His hands sit passively at the nape of Jared’s neck. After a second though, Jensen gives back as good as he gets, showing Jared exactly how happy he is to see him. It’s incredible.

Jared breaks away first, smiling he says, “Now, that is a much better greeting.”

Jensen nods, “I definitely agree,” he says and then kisses Jared chastely on the lips. “Now. Can we get coffee, I’ve been here since eight and I’m really hungry.”

Jared laughs, “Okay,” he says reluctantly. He really wants to continue kissing Jensen, but the confined space is starting to make his neck hurt. “Lead the way.”

Jensen picks up his discarded briefcase and they leave the privacy the shadows provide behind.

The coffeehouse Jensen takes him to is a couple blocks down from _Erbsünde_. It’s kind of a whole in the wall; a place that he’s passed by thousands of times but ignored because he didn’t think a coffeehouse entrance existed underneath an apartment building. Jared feels a great deal of anticipation at being shown another undiscovered part of Berlin. He’s lived in Berlin almost his entire life, its wonderful to find these reminders that he hasn’t seen or done everything there is to do in Berlin.

They head down some cramped stairs to the main coffee bar. Behind the bar is well-dressed woman in her mid thirties. She smiles when she sees Jensen, and speaks in accented German. From her looks and accent she’s foreign, he would bet money that she’s from the South, but he can’t place where.

“Herr Ackles,” she says cheerfully. “Wie geht es Ihnen?” She greets him formally, but the fact that she knows his name is an indicator that Jensen frequents this coffeehouse constantly.

“Sehr gut, Frau Rossi,” Jensen replies in a friendly fashion. “Ich hätte bitte gerne einen Expresso Macchiato und ein Parmschinkenstulle.”

“Kommt sofort,” she affirms. “Und bei Ihnen?” she asks Jared.

Jared doesn’t really know what’s good here so he decides to order the same as Jensen.

The coffeehouse is small, intimate, if a little utilitarian in appearance, and confined to a small basement beneath the apartment building. He’s a little unsure about the place because it’s less like a living room where he would want to entertain company and more like his apartment. He finds his apartment depressing, so he can’t really see the appeal. There must be something because there are other patrons, who seem to be enjoying themselves.

Jensen picks a corner table. He sits with his back facing the entrance, providing them some privacy from other customers. Jared sits across from him, and looks around at the other patrons, who all seem engrossed in their own business; he and Jensen as the only couple don’t seem to attract their notice.

One table in the corner is a young man surrounded by books. He’s probably a student at the university, one of the fortunate few whose parents have the time and money to support their children through their degree. Jared envies him, because he at one time wanted to be him. He had dreams of studying law that didn’t pan out because of the war and the aftermath.

While he’s proud of the things he’s managed to accomplish despite the obstacles, he can’t help but wish that he were like that young man.

Frau Rossi arrives with their coffee; it’s served in china that’s just a plain as the rest of the place. This is clearly a place that’s on the opposite end of the spectrum compared to _Erbsünde_ , it doesn’t offer any luxury to its patrons. He would think that the quality of the coffee is bad, except Jensen seems the type to be very particular about what he eats or drinks so it couldn’t be.

"So, do you come here often?” inquires Jared, the question is rhetorical but makes a good conversation starter. He’s curious about why Jensen would come here. He takes a tentative sip and suddenly he’s not so surprised, the espresso tastes incredible.

“Yeah,” Jensen replies. “Best kept secret in Berlin. It’s so unassuming, but she serves some of the best espresso I’ve ever tasted.”

“I agree,” Jared takes another sip, “How did you find this place?”

“Just walking by, needed coffee. Now I come here every day for lunch.”

Jensen’s taken a sip and there is some residue on his lips. Jensen licks it off and Jared is mesmerized as he watches that pink tongue trail across his lips. If he could he would reach across the table and kiss Jensen, but he can’t so he settles for sipping more coffee.

“I forgot to ask,” Jared begins, “Who is the choreographer? She looks familiar.”

“Samantha Ferris,” Jensen says, “She’s the mistress of ceremonies.” He pauses, “I don’t know a lot about her, she keeps mostly to herself, but she’s one hell of a dancer and pretty entertaining in the right situation.” Jensen leans forward, “Rumor has it that she is one of the dancers in the Rite of Spring.”

Jared whistles. “That’s no small feat. So she’s another respectable artist that’s dirtying themselves as a Cabaret performer?” Jared teases.

Jensen laughs, “I think you have the wrong impression Jared,” he says flirtatiously. “I am far from respectable.”

“Your background would speak otherwise,” Jared says.

For a brief moment Jensen’s expression becomes introspective, he’s looking at Jared like he wishes he could be the naïve and respectable man that Jared believes him to be. Jared is struck with the knowledge that he doesn’t know Jensen, he only knows certain superficial things or whatever Jensen conveys through his music. But he doesn’t know what tragic event caused Jensen to lose his innocence, caused him to look at Jared that way. The image and preconceived notions he has about Jensen are probably all false.

Frau Rossi arrives carrying a tray with their sandwiches. He’s never seen anything like it, the bread has a hard shell but it’s not French bread. He opens the sandwich and the meat is thinly sliced, almost see-through, and cured. There is some sort of red colored condiment smeared on the bread. In other words it’s food that he’s never been exposed to.

Jensen brushes all of this off and once again he becomes the attentive date. He takes a sip of his espresso, and then asks, “Jakub says that you served in the Reichstag? That’s quite an accomplishment.”

“For about six months,” Jared says, “I was elected in ’32, and resigned two months before the Reichstagsbrandverordnung in ‘33. I campaigned for the party before that.” He sighs. “Looking back, I don’t know why I really ran, except to prove that I could do it despite my background. I was elected and exposed to just how dysfunctional our government really is. It’s aggravating how little they accomplished.” It’s been almost a year and he’s still angry and disappointed by the whole experience. “I don’t think I could have stayed much longer.”

“Why?”

“Because I realized the true colors of the KPD,” he doesn’t try to hide his bitterness. “I bought into Kommunismus from the beginning. I went to see Rosa Luxemburg speak, and she painted this picture of a world where the government would be for the people, where it would help the people. I had just gotten back from serving in the war and was so disillusioned with the government, I was forced to fight in this war that I never believed in and my government wasn’t doing anything for me.”

He pauses. “I fought in the Spartakist Uprising, and then joined the KPD. I bought into their vision of Communism, and what Germany had the potential to be. I went to every rally. My brother helped form the RFB, we weren’t the public face of the party, but we both were big names to those within the party. Our investment was all based on this vision of utopia they sold us. It feels like they used me to further their party goals. They used the dissatisfaction with the government I felt after the war, and my anger that I was never given a chance to go to University because my family was too poor.”

He pauses to think about how to describe to Jensen just how betrayed he feels. “At the time I felt grateful that they gave me chance no one else did. I wanted to be an intellectual, someone who could tackle tough philosophical problems and debate with the best minds of the day.” He nods towards the student in the corner, “I wanted to be him, to have the time and leisure to study and debate.” I wanted to be you, he thinks, because Jensen had some amazing opportunities when he was younger. “I feel like they used that, flattered that part of my ego that thought I was intelligent. They gave me a chance to help the movement.” He still can’t quite believe it years later, “At the time I wondered why, because I’m this kid from an immigrant family, who’s entirely self-educated.”

“I know people who have been killed in riots, killed because they believed in this party so much that they’d become martyrs for the cause.” He is still angry about the way some of his friends had died for a lie. “I would have died for the party in a heartbeat.”

”Then I became a representative and realized that the Kommunisten in the Reichstag were not better than anybody else. They don’t try to change the system; they just try to make it as hard as possible for anything to get done, which doesn’t help anybody. They’re all just as power hungry as any Nazi. They both thrive on the passion and drive of disadvantaged naïve young men. ”

Jensen looks sympathetic, or maybe he pities Jared, but Jared doesn’t think he really understands what it’s like to discover the very thing you spent your formative years fighting for is only an illusion.

“I got out as soon as Hitler started his push to be named Chancellor. I thought he was charismatic and smart enough to accomplish that goal and knew the Reichstag is going to become a hostile environment for anyone on the left once he became Chancellor. Besides, I didn’t want to be a member of my own party anymore.”

“Does your brother believe this?” Jensen asks.

“Yes,” Jared sighs. “But he doesn’t know what to do with his life unless he’s fighting for some cause. There’s no longer a cause to fight for, so he just fights.”

“You found something,” Jensen says. Jared takes a bite of his sandwich, as a delay tactic, and it really is pretty good. The bread has an unusual texture, a hard shell with a soft center, and the sauce on the sandwich tastes like tomato. He takes another bite.

Jensen looks at him hopefully; “Good?” obviously waiting for Jared to approve of his choice of lunch.

“Very,” Jared replies through another mouthful, the flavor of the meat with the tomato flavored sauce is incredible. “What is this bread?”

“Ciabatta, it’s Italian.”

“It’s good,” Jared takes another bite, swallows it, and returns to the conversation at hand. “To answer your question, no I haven’t really found something. I have no degree, no skills that matter to any intellectual profession. Therefore, I’m stuck working as a cashier for a department store, something that requires very little thought or effort. I’m just as bored as my brother.”

“I’m sorry,” Jensen says.

“It’s not like it matters anyways,” Jared says before he can stop himself, “I’ll probably be dead before the end of the year.”

Jensen just stops drinking his espresso mid-sip, and his face turns pale; the cup in his hands starts to shake, and he looks like he’s barely holding it together. The pain on his face hits Jared in the gut. Jensen calmly sets down his cup, but he can’t meet Jared’s eyes, closes his own, and Jared can see him take deep breaths in order reach some composure.

Fuck, Jared curses, I can’t believe I just said that aloud. He knows that Jensen probably knew this going in, but so far neither of them have mentioned this particular elephant in the room.

“Jensen…” Jared begins but trails off, because what can he say? Nothing will help. He can’t change anything. Story of my life, he thinks bitterly. He failed to do anything meaningful as a politician and now he can’t prevent breaking Jensen’s heart.

Jensen opens his eyes, wet with unshed tears, and gives Jared an incredibly fake smile, that doesn’t touch his eyes.

“It’s okay,” Jensen says shakily. “It needed to be said. We’re in a doomed relationship, we both know it, and there’s no point in avoiding the issue.” The smile falters a little. “I knew this going in, it’s not like the fact that you have a death sentence is entirely new to me.”

"For what it’s worth,” Jared says grasping Jensen’s hand for a brief moment. “I wish things were different.” He stares morosely at his food, feeling awkward.

“Yeah, me too,” Jensen replies quietly. Jensen resumes drinking his coffee. Jared picks up his sandwich to take another bite, but finds that his appetite is gone, so he drops the sandwich back onto the plate.

 _Fuck_ , Jared thinks again, they were having a wonderful time. _I ruined it by bringing this up._

“So what brought you back to Berlin?” Jared inquires wanting to go back to more pleasant topics. “I got the impression that you loved Wien?” _I really hope this isn’t a loaded question_ he thinks because this outing shouldn’t be really this depressing.

“I did love Wien,” Jensen says sounding a bit more composed, and some color is returning to his face. “It just became too stifling, musically. Studying there is amazing, you get a great theoretical grounding, but it’s not really a Mecca for modern or innovative music anymore. Anyone who’s modern is in Berlin.”

Jensen pauses, and bites his lip while he looks at Jared as if considering him and trying to decide if Jared is worthy of learning the deep dark secret he’s about to reveal. Jared has a sinking feeling that he’s not going to like what he hears. But, he must meet Jensen’s standards, because Jensen says quietly, just low enough for them to hear. “I also got into trouble with the authorities and had to leave Wien.”

“What could an Ackles do to get into trouble?” Jared asks incredulously. Johannes Ackles is major player in the Nazi party. Surely, someone important within the party would interfere to help his younger brother.

“Did you ever hear about the Viennese banker, Georg Steinthal?” Jensen asks.

“Of course,” says Jared. “Who hasn’t?”

It was a huge scandal three years ago. Georg Steinthal was one of the richest men in Austria, he had a controlling interest in the National Bank. He was also Jewish, which made him a target for the Nazis. Some board member, in return for having Steinthal’s shares of the bank transferred to him, helped uncover some reason to remove Steinthal as President. What they found was a bitter and vindictive, Evelyn Steinthal, who fed up with her husband’s homosexual affairs, gave them enough anecdotal and paper evidence to convict Georg Steinthal of homosexual behavior.

The scandal went public, when his wife Evelyn sold her story to the Viennese press. She told wild stories of being coerced into participating in threesomes with many men over the years. When asked about why she decided to come forward at the time, she stated that she would not condone her husband ignoring their marriage to continue on an affair with a man. In other words: the occasional dalliance was fine, love was unacceptable.

Evelyn capitalizing on the public’s need for gossip release some of her husband’s correspondence with the mysterious ‘ _Musiker_ ,’ the moniker Georg gave his lover, to the press. Eventually, all of it was published and Jared is ashamed to admit that he bought a copy based on the extracts he read in the papers. He bought it in a moment of weakness, thinking what he had read was very beautiful, but he felt too uncomfortable to read any of the letters once the moment passed.

Georg accepted the maximum sentence of five years in prison without a protest, and was brutally beaten to death about a month into his sentence. The greatest mystery is how ‘Der Musiker’ managed to remain anonymous throughout the scandal. No one in their circle had ever known who the man was, since they had never known about the affair, and the authorities had been paid off enough to strike the name from any record. Jared suspected that the man is from an extremely wealthy family that bought both Evelyn and the authorities’ silence.

“Ich bin der Musiker,” Jensen says quietly, looking around the coffeehouse to see if anyone noticed his confession.

Jared does a double take and asks, “Excuse me?”

"I’m the unnamed male in the Georg Steinthal scandal,” Jensen says and then sits there silently, waiting for Jared to let this tidbit about his past sink in.

 _Holy Shit_ , Jared thinks, _I’m face to face with the most gossiped about man in the past decade._

“That’s really why I left Wien,” Jensen clarifies.

“That would definitely be a reason to leave Wien,” Jared agrees still stunned by this revelation.

“Yeah,” Jensen replies.

 _Why didn’t you stand up for your lover?_ Jared wonders, because if he felt the anything for someone remotely like what Jensen felt for Georg he wouldn’t abandon his lover in his moment of need.

“You probably think less of me for leaving him, instead of defending him. Don’t you?” Jensen asks.

 _Yes_ , Jared thinks, _you hid behind your family’s name and position and left him out in the cold._ Then he has a sobering thought, Would he do that to me? Before this revelation Jared didn’t think Jensen would be capable of that, but now he’s not so sure.

“No,” Jared lies, “I’m sure it was a difficult situation.”

“I would have,” Jensen says defensively. As if, he knows that Jared is judging him for his cowardice. “It just happened so quickly. One minute they were knocking at my door and throwing us jail, and then they released me and one of his servants put me on a train to Berlin, with my all of my belongings and a letter.”

"It turns out that he knew what Evelyn was going to do our last night together. The only reason he was at my apartment was because he wanted one last time before …” Jensen trails off. “He planned out exactly what he was going to do after he was arrested. He pled guilty to every charge, just rolled over and let them take whatever they wanted as long as I was kept out of it. He gave up everything in order to protect me.” Jensen’s tone becomes regretful; “I didn’t find this out until I read the letter from him given to me by his lawyer. I would have talked him out of it, I wasn’t worth that.”

 _Yes. You are_ , thinks Jared and he can’t help but feel grateful that Steinthal did what he did, because otherwise Jensen might not be sitting across from him. He won’t tell Jensen this, because Jensen is clearly still suffering from survivor’s guilt three years later. All he can think to say is, “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Jensen replies, Jared’s simple condolence enough. Then Jensen laughs; it’s the laugh of someone trying to cheer up, someone trying to brush off his or her pain. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “This has become a morose outing.”

“Yes, it has,” Jared agrees. “I came here thinking we would talk about music or politics not my impending doom or past loves.”

“Me too,” Jensen smiles; he looks a little less gloomy. “When do you have to return to work?”

Jared checks his watch, its twelve thirty he has to be back at this station by one, so he really needs to leave since it takes twenty minutes to get back to the store from here. “I should probably leave now. The only reason I came here is so I could arrange another meeting.”

“I hope you will come see the performance tonight?” Jensen asks hopefully. “It starts at nine.”

“Definitely,” Jared replies with a playful smile on his face. “I’ll even sit in the corner and not try to kiss you this time.”

“If you do that I’ll definitely make it worth your while,” the smile he gives Jared promises all kinds of sinful things and Jared zones out for a moment to imagine the many ways he would like Jensen to reward him for behaving.

“Promises, promises,” Jared smiles, he feels relaxed and glad that Jensen seems to be recovering. He looks at his watch and he really has to go. They stand and Jensen sets down enough to pay for their lunch, and shakes off Jared’s attempts to split the bill.

“I’ll walk with you to the _Straßenbahn_ ,” Jensen says, “If you don’t mind my company.”

"I would love your company,” Jared replies and they leave the quiet of the coffeehouse for the noise of the city.

  
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* _One Hand, One Heart_ , from West Side Story, lyrics by Stephan Sondheim, music by Leonard Bernstein


	3. Part Three

  


Genevieve and Jensen have a pre-performance tradition; they’ve done it every night for the past year. They share a glass of something in her dressing room, usually schnapps, and talk about anything and everything before they both start preparing to perform. It’s not about getting drunk, but about relaxing before the madness of pre-performance preparations begins. Danneel used to join them, before politics and lovers brought discord to their friendship.

He and Genevieve keep things to lighter topics, preferring not to bring up their love lives, or in Jensen’s case old ghosts, because the topic is too painful. But as Jensen approaches Genevieve’s dressing room, he has a sinking feeling that tonight they’ll be talking about Jared. With trepidation he opens the door and finds Genevieve sitting on the loveseat in her blue silk robe, two glasses on the small table in front of the love seat, waiting for him.

Her dressing room is small and sparsely decorated, not as large as Danneel’s, but it fits a dressing table, a small wardrobe, a loveseat, and a small table in corner. The furniture is rather plain, but well crafted, the wood the same color as her hair. The loveseat and coffee table, both look like they were rescued from some posh Viennese drawing room, look out of place in the sparse room. The wardrobe is open her costume for tonight hangs on the hook attached to the door.

Without a word she rises and places a glass in his hand. She lifts it up in a silent toast, that he mimics, and they toss back the liquid. As he suspects, its _Obstbrand_ , apple, and it’s strong and burns his throat a little as it goes down. He twirls the small glass in his hands and watches the remaining bit of _Obstbrand_ swirl around the bottom.

“More?” she asks breaking his trance.

Jensen shakes his head and looks up to meet her eyes, she looks so sad and he thinks she might pity him.

Genevieve shrugs and pours herself another glass from the bottle resting on the table. She leans back against the back of the loveseat and studies him.

“Jensen,” she begins. “When I delivered your message to Jared last night, I thought it was a good that you expressed some sexual interest in someone. You’ve been living like a monk since you returned to Berlin. It’s healthy to be interested in someone it means you’ve moved on.” She sips her drink, and seems to consider her next words. “I’ve always thought Jared was your type,” she says carefully. “You seem to be attracted to intelligent, driven, and passionate men. Jared definitely qualifies. But you never struck me as a romantic, Jensen. So, I didn’t think you’d let this get out of control.” She looks worried, “Jensen you barely know him, yet you’re singing love songs to him.”

“Then why did you help?” _Maybe, it would be better for all if you didn’t_ , he thinks. Under different circumstances they probably have a chance. Jensen could imagine a life with Jared, or at least trying, and that’s the problem. He sees potential, and that they don’t stand a chance makes everything worse. He isn’t lying when he told his brother that he is in deep even after a short time.

She looks him in the eye; “I honestly didn’t think Jared would live long enough for you to fall in love with him.”

“I’m not in love,” Jensen says. He doesn’t really know how he feels; it’s definitely more than like though.

She clearly doesn’t believe this, “You’re telling me that you haven’t already planned your happily ever after?” she asks incredulously.

Jensen can’t lie. He’s thought about the relationship they could have. Domestic scenes like playing his newest composition for Jared, waking up in his arms, lying in bed together without a care in the world, … sex. Many are things he wanted, but could never have with Georg. He could see having a relationship like that with Jared. He’s even toyed with the idea of leaving Berlin and going somewhere else where they could leave behind everything that’s tearing Germany apart. His plans are vague he doesn’t know have a city or country in mind, anywhere other than Germany.

“You’re telling me that earlier you weren’t singing about him, to him?” she continues needling, poking and prodding at something he really doesn’t want to examine yet.

“I…” Jensen begins but stops because he doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s Georg all over again, Jensen,” she says. “Except this time, it’s worse because you’re offering your heart on a silver platter to be crushed.”

“Maybe I can save him,” Jensen thinks aloud. “I have connections, maybe we can get out of here before anything happens. I could have my happily ever after.”

Gen leans forward and softly places her hand on his cheek, her thumb brushes something away from his eyes and he realizes its tears.

“Jensen,” she says softly. “I understand the Padalecki men are easy to love, but this is not healthy. This is not the way to recover from Georg. You can’t save him, it’s an illusion.”

“He’s a man I could love,” Jensen replies. “I see the potential in him, in us, and I can’t ignore it. It may not be healthy, but it’s my life.”

That sad and pitying expression is back and he has to turn away, he doesn’t want to see that look in her eyes.

“Danneel is right,” she says with more cheer than he thought possible. “We are Masochists.”

“No,” Jensen says, because they don’t actively seek out the pain or enjoy the pain their choices cause them. He knows she didn’t fall in love with Jakub because she wants to feel the pain of losing him and he definitely didn’t start something with Jared for that reason. “We are just unlucky in love.”

“But fortunate in friendship,” she says, he kisses her forehead.

“That we are.”

Their love lives may end in tragedy, but at least when the dust settles they’ll have each other.

~*~

After the performance, Jensen runs through backstage to Genevieve’s dressing room. He’s dying to learn what caused the audience mood to sober up, so dramatically, that he noticed it from his perch at the piano. The many horrible scenarios his mind conjured up made it hard to concentrate.

Someone pulls Jensen out of the hallway and into an alcove. He’s about to protest, but then he realizes it's Jared, a very wild-eyed and desperate looking Jared. Jensen knows that look, he's seen that look under similar tense circumstances.

Jared crowds him against the wall, and kisses him desperately. Jared's kiss isn't gentle; it's rough and desperate, full of raw need. Jensen pushes Jared away, cupping Jared's cheek in an attempt to get Jared to calm down.

"Jared," Jensen tries to keep his voice calm. "What happened?"

"Christian Kane was killed during his match against _Der Deutsche_ ," Jared tells him brokenly. "From my brother's description, it happened purposefully."

Jensen gasps. _Der Deutsche_ has ties to the SS, sure he's a low level grunt within the organization, but the man always unabashedly touted the Nazi Party line. Deaths happened, boxing matches sometimes got out of hand, but it was never intentional.

Kane's death is a warning, the first casualty. Jensen suspects the next to come within a matter of days. He knows with certainty that they will come for Jared.

Genevieve is right he is being unrealistic. Going into this Jensen thought they might have a couple of months, the writing was on the wall, but so far nothing had happened. He had the vague hope that he might a way to get him and Jared out of the city. But they don't have time. Jensen thinks he was just foolish and naïve, to think that he can have Jared for longer than a couple days.

Once he got beyond his initial pangs of lust for Jared, he became so caught up in the idea of starting a relationship with Jared that forged ahead without thinking. Genevieve is right. He set himself up to be another man’s last chance. The only difference between Georg and Jared is that he knew going in that Jared is doomed, but the situation is still the same. The man he cares for, maybe loves, will die tragically and leaving him alone and broken.

Jensen leans in to kiss Jared, gently. It's goodbye. Jensen can't do this.

“I need you,” Jared says before deepening the kiss. Jensen knows where Jared wants this to go, and he just can't do it. He doesn't want to be haunted by another last night.

“Jared,” Jensen says breathlessly when Jared releases his mouth. “I'm sorry for your loss. I didn't know Kane well, but loosing someone close to you is hard.”

"Thank you," Jared replies.

Jensen, unable to resist, kisses Jared one last time. "I can't do this."

"What?" The shock in Jared's voice is heartbreaking.

Jensen steels himself and replies, "I can't be with you."

"But …" Jared clears his throat. "I thought you wanted … wanted to be with me."

"I do," Jensen searches for the words to describe his feelings. "That's the problem." Jensen runs his hand down Jared's shirt. "I think we could be good together."

"Exactly, so I don't see the problem?"

"The problem is that who knows what will happen to you tomorrow. You could be dead or imprisoned and I'll be left behind."

"You think I'm another Georg," Jared states, annoyance coloring his tone. Jared backs away out of reach. "You don't want to be with me because of what happened."

"His death crushed me Jared. I'm afraid that if we continue the same thing will happen."

"So, that's it?" Jared sounds resigned. "You're giving up on us? What about what I want?" Jared cups his cheek, his mouth inches away from Jensen's. "I want this."

"I can't do this Jared." Letting this go is one of the hardest things he's ever done. Jensen forces himself not to look away. "I'm sorry, but I just can't."

"You’re so haunted by his death, that you're willing to give this up?"

"Yes."

"Well then good luck to you, Jensen," Jared says coldly. "I wish you the best of luck."

Jensen grabs by the bicep, preventing Jared from leaving. "I need you to not be angry with me."

Jared pulls his arm away, "What do you want from me Jensen?"

"I just need you to understand," Jensen pleads. Whatever they had is tarnished, but Jensen needs this to end on good terms.

"I understand." Jared sighs. "I just wanted."

"I know," Jensen hopes he sounds apologetic. "I just can't."

Jared's mouth works, but he swallows whatever he was going to say. Jared gives Jensen a lingering kiss to his forehead and quietly walks out.

  


He arrives at _Erbsünde_ for the morning rehearsal surly, hung-over, and in an overall terrible mood. He’s really not looking forward to spending his entire morning in rehearsal. After last night, Jared left hastily and Jensen went home and attempted to drink his entire bottle of Obstbrand. He didn’t finish the entire bottle, but he managed to become sufficiently drunk before passing out, so he considered it a success. He’s thinks the more impressive feat is that he managed to wake up in time for the morning rehearsal at all.

The only reason he’s even here is to give Herr Morgan some excuse for why he can’t attend today’s rehearsal. Fortunately, to his relief there’s a sign on the door that says:

> Closed due to extenuating circumstances, all performances cancelled until further notice.Employees: Rehearsals are also cancelled until further notice.

He’ll probably feel bad about this tomorrow, but right now music and everything else is the last thing on his mind. All he cares about is finding out what’s going on with the SS by visiting his brother, seeing if Dianne can get him and Jared out of the city, and fixing his relationship with Jared. His relationship with Jared is royally fucked after last night’s fiasco.

His first stop after _Erbsünde_ is his brother’s house, which was a wedding gift from Dianne’s family. They live in large mansion in Grunewald, next to the built from a dark gray stone, and lined with ivy to give it a sense of age even though it was built around the turn of the century.

The maid greets him at the door with a polite, “Herr Ackles.” She holds open the door for him. “Herr und Frau Ackles are on the Veranda.”

Jensen follows her through the house, Johannes and Dianne are sitting down for breakfast on the terrace. His brother is not in uniform, a rare occurrence these days, instead wearing a white dress shirt and khaki pants. It’s more casual than he usually sees, but then he doesn’t spend a great deal of time with his brother this early in the morning. He’s reading some document, which Jensen guess is some internal memo by the Nazi insignia on the back cover. He’s focused on the document, so he doesn’t notice Jensen’s intrusion.

Dianne as usual looks radiant in her white dress, her golden locks catching the morning sun. He finds it mindboggling that she manages to look so put together all the time. She’s fairly involved with taking care of the twins Petra and Florian, who are nearing their sixth birthday. They have the same platinum blond hair he and Johannes had as children before it darkened with age, Ackles green eyes, freckles, and their mother’s pointed nose. They look pretty perfect, excellent examples of genetics, and probably the pride of his brother.

He prefers Petra because she’s calm and less boisterous than her brother; her interest in music also endears her to him. Currently she’s sitting quietly by her mother daintily eating her Danish. Florian is currently playing with the dog, a Scharfhund named Sadie, his breakfast lay half-eaten and forgotten in favor of play next to his sister.

Dianne is staring in Florian’s direction, watchful, but her mind is occupied with something other than her son. The maid announces his presence and both of them look up. His brother looks unhappy to see him, the fight a couple nights ago still too new, but Dianne stands up and gives him a hug and a quick peck on the cheek.

"Jensen,” she says. “I didn’t expect you.”

“Rehearsal was cancelled this morning,” he says cheerfully. “I thought I would stop by to see my niece.” It’s not entirely a lie; it is good to see his niece even if it’s not his main purpose for coming here. He’s stopped by unannounced before, mostly to see Dianne and his niece and nephew, since his brother is usually not at home when he’s in this area. Granted he’s decided to carry on a relationship with a man, one whom his brother has a vendetta against, so his relationship with his brother is on shaky ground and this impromptu visit is not welcome.

Petra stands before him, patiently waiting for him to greet her. He kneels on one knee and opens his arms for a hug. He wraps her in his arms, and kisses her platinum curls.

“How are you _Kleene?”_

“Good,” she replies and wriggles out of his arms. Dianne hands him a plate that she must have put together in the interim.

“Danke,” he takes the proffered plate.

“Bitte,” she replies before sitting back down at the table.

Jensen takes the seat once occupied by Florian, and pushes aside the forgotten plate of food.

“So Jensen, how is Genevieve?” asks Dianne. Jensen looks over at his brother to gauge his reaction to Dianne’s question. Normally Dianne doesn’t bring up Genevieve in Johannes’s company, because Johannes dislikes Genevieve. He’s never heard either of them mention non-mutual friends in each other’s company before. _Has something happened between them?_ he wonders, Has Dianne actually stopped caring about Johannes’s opinion? Mentioning Genevieve is an admission that Dianne has a life outside of her husband, something she’s been reluctant to do before. His brother is still reading his pamphlet, either he’s pretending not to listen or he just doesn’t care, but otherwise not giving any other indication that he’s listening to their conversation. He hasn’t paid any attention to Jensen beyond his initial unhappiness when Jensen arrived.

“She’s fine,” Jensen replies cautiously. “A little worried about her future considering what’s happing.”

“And Danneel?” she inquires casually as if Danneel isn’t a loaded topic. “How is our favorite Cabaret singer?” Out of the corner of his eye he sees that Johannes’s taken an interest in the conversation and isn’t keeping up the pretence of disinterest. _Too much of an interest_ , Jensen thinks judging by Johannes’s excited body language awaiting Jensen’s answer. _Dianne must have told him she knows_ , he realizes. It’s the only explanation for why his brother’s not hiding how much he wants to know about Danneel.

“She seems fine,” Jensen says. “I don’t really talk to her.”

“Probably for the best,” Dianne gives Johannes a pointed look, “Considering how she chooses to live her life.”

Petra’s eyes are darting between her parents, her brows knit in confusion. Jensen wonders if she understands any of the subtext of this conversation, or the tension between her parents that’s been building over the years. He’s lost and he has a good background in their marital problems. She’s already been molding their home to her preferences, but as far as he knew she’s been civil, clearly she’s done with making Johannes’s home life comfortable.

Johannes leans on the table, and stares at Dianne like one would a disobedient child. “Dianne,” his tone is stern, “Can you go bring Florian into the house?” It’s a dismissal, and they all know it. “It’s time for their lessons.”

Dianne stands as Petra leaves her seat. As Dianne passes by she leans down to say quietly in his ear, “Come see me afterwards, I’ll be in my sitting room.” He feels completely lost, like the most important measures of a song and has been cut off forcing him to skip straight to the final cadence without playing any of the buildup.

“So what brings you here brother?” asks Johannes icily. The question is rhetorical; they know he’s here because of Jared.

“Something is happening with the Nazi party,” Jensen begins. “I want to know what’s happening.”

Johannes looks at him for a few moments, with that same look he had when he told Jensen about Georg’s death. Jensen knew that at the time Johannes didn’t really care that Georg had been killed, and definitely didn’t agree with the life choice Jensen made. Yet, that brotherly instinct kicked in and he tried to shield Jensen from the worst of everything, regardless of Jensen’s choices he still wanted to protect Jensen from harsh reality. He looks sad that he had to be the bearer of bad news. It makes Jensen feel better to know that regardless of how fucked up their relationship is becoming his brother still cares a little for him.

“Kane’s death is a warning, isn’t it?” Jensen asks. “The stalemate is over.”

Johannes’s eyes flicker to the discarded document by his side. “We are going to act tonight,” he says flatly, “Operation Kollibri starts tonight.”

“The Padaleckis?” He knows they will be involved, but not because they are terribly important enemies to the party. They’re grunts who helped build the KPD up over the years, but they don’t have any political clout. The Nazi leadership probably wouldn’t have run across them since, Jared’s failed term in the Reichstag notwithstanding, they’ve been involved in the street war against the SS. They only reason they’ll end up dead is that they’ve clashed with Johannes enough in the past for him to want to exact their revenge for some past slight.

He hopes that his brother will give him some indication of how long he has to put together his plan to get Jared out of the city. He’ll take it as a sign that his brother has some lingering affection for him.

“Tonight,” his brother replies casually, like he’s informing Jensen of dinner plans. Johannes’s never been good at lying to him, so his casual tone and nonchalance is not an act.

It’s hard to realize that your brother is a monster. It’s hard to reconcile the big brother who he played games with, who supported your ‘rebellion’ to become a musician, and who’s always defended you from your father’s disapproval, with the cold man before him. His brother doesn’t care about the Padaleckis or anyone else, because they aren’t family or fit into his narrow worldview, they’re just _Untermenschen_ that need to be culled from the gene pool.

“I came here to see if you still had any compassion,” Jensen’s voice is thick with despair he knows pleading for Jared’s life would be fruitless. “But there is no feeling in you. Your orders don’t trouble you at all, do they?”

Johannes gives him a pitying look. His brother actually pities him for thinking that his brother would be disturbed by murder, that he isn’t a cold blooded killer. He feels sick because the country has been turned over to men just like Johannes. Even if Jared doesn’t come, I’m definitely getting out of this country, he thinks with certainty. To stay here and watch his country’s corruption is unthinkable.

“Jensen these men are enemies of the state,” Johannes says.

“Their only crime is fighting for another political cause,” Jensen argues. “They’ve done nothing wrong.”

“They want to hold back Germany’s destiny,” Johannes counters. “They will prevent the German people from becoming their best.”

“Cold blooded murderers, you mean?”

“German culture is superior to all others, Jensen” Johannes says in a pedantic tone.“They prevent us from spreading it to other culturally bankrupt nations. But if we want to present our best to the world we must first cull the bad seeds from the breed.” He pauses, “People like the Padaleckis are bad seeds.”

Jensen can’t take anymore, he can’t sit and listen to his brother describe a man he could love, or possibly does love, as a genetic defect. He’s struck by how much his brother has changed since he left to study in Vienna. His brother’s nationalist beliefs, that prompted him to join the Nazis in the first place, have been corrupted, twisted and caused him to buy into the Nazis racial Dreck.

 _Or maybe it is there from the beginning and you failed to notice until those beliefs were directed at someone you care about_ , a voice in his head taunts. _Maybe you never knew your brother at all._

He rises from his seat and turns to go without another word; his brother catches his arm from behind. “Jensen, family is important,” his tone sounds a little desperate. “Don’t let him come between us.”

“It’s not because of him,” Jensen says firmly. “I can’t ignore who you are, or your beliefs. It’s not just Jared, it’s everything.” With that he turns his back on his brother and goes to wait for Dianne inside.

“~*~

Dianne calls the room Jensen waits in her “Sanctuary.” It’s a little room located just off the master bedroom. At one point it is dressing room, until she remodeled the room and turned it into her personal study. .

“In an act of rebellion after she forced Johannes to another section of the house, she hired an interior designer influenced by the Bauhaus to redesign the entire master suite. The solid black tiles contrasts with the white walls and furniture. The wall are lined with black bookshelves, and in the northwest corner of the room sits a large table laden with piles with papers and books, in front of the French doors sits a white small couch and chair that form an L around a black table that’s a smaller version of her desk. .

“Jensen opens the balcony doors and walks out into the warm June day. He leans against the railing and admires the view of the lake.

““So Jensen, I’m assuming the reason you’ve come has to do with Jared Padalecki?” Dianne asks. Jensen startles a little because he didn’t hear her step onto the balcony. He turns towards her, she’s leaning on the railing, studying him intently.

““How?” He doesn’t know where she would have heard about Jared in the past couple days.

““Johannes went on a rant yesterday about how you were going to ruin the family with your ‘perversions’,” she replies. “His anger seemed directed at Jared Padalecki.”

““He knows I have a new lover,” Jensen says. “I probably didn’t succeed in convincing him my lover wasn’t Jared, if he’s ranting about Jared corrupting me.”

““Jensen,” Dianne says jokingly, “I think everyone in that club probably saw that you were attracted to Jared.”

“Jensen winces. _I hope not_ , he thinks. _Everyone knowing about us doesn’t bode well for our continued survival._

““So you’re willing to risk alienating your brother because of him,” Dianne observes casually. “He must be pretty special.”

“Jensen doesn’t have an answer other than gut instinct, which won’t satisfy Dianne’s jaded view of love, so he stays silent.

“Dianne sighs, “I’m sure Genevieve has raised the same objections, but … are you sure it’s a wise decision? I remember how you were after Georg’s death. Do you think you can survive the loss of another lover?”

“He wishes no one knew how broken he was after Georg’s death. Then they wouldn’t look at him with pity or think he’s breakable. Georg’s death hit him hard because he doesn’t do anything by halves, including love. It’s an aspect of his character that gave him the drive to become a musician, and later a composer, but it also means when he falls in love he gives everything. It’s not something he can change, so there’s no point worrying about it. He turns to face Dianne, and her expression is sorrowful, almost an exact match to the way she looks at him whenever he mentions Georg, even in passing. She moves closer and grasps his hand.

““Jensen,” she sounds resigned. He knows she’s going to continue pressing him to explain his motivation, it’s her modus operendi, but he can tell she knows that she’s already lost the battle. “I know you’re a romantic and you believe in happily ever after, but I think you’re in love with the idea of him, of being in a relationship again.”

““It’s more than I’ve felt about anyone in a while,” Jensen replies. “I think I could make a life with him.”

““After two days?” Dianne snorts, “Not possible.” Jensen winces at the condescension that colors his life, like he’s some naïve child that needs to grow-up and learn how the world works.

“ “Jensen, two men can’t make a life together. You should know better than anyone.” The pity in her voice makes him cringe, but he doesn’t look away. “Where are you going to make a life with a man, Jensen?” she asks. “I won’t happen in Berlin.”

““Paris,” Jensen says resolutely. It’s not an original idea, but there’s a reason those with untraditional lifestyles flock to the city, the Parisians don’t seem to care about people’s personal lives.

““The haven for bohemian artists and musicians,” Dianne muses on his idea moment, then inquires, “What if this romance falls apart? That life you imagine, what if it doesn’t turn out like you expect? After all you barely know each other, war romances don’t usually survive once the urgency of danger fades Jensen.”

““Then it falls apart,” he replies. “But at least I gave it a chance. If I don’t have that chance then I’ll always wonder what might have been.” He feels that if anything seems worth trying he should always give it a shot.

““So I assume that you came here today to beg for amnesty, from Johannes?”

“Jensen nods, “Also to see how much time we have left. I wanted confirmation that my suspicions that Christian Kane’s death yesterday was the first casualty of whatever purge the Nazis are planning. I came to see if Johannes would confirm my suspicions.”

““Did he?” she asks.

““Yes,” Jensen answers. “Tonight, the Padaleckis are the first on his list.”

“He’s still a little shocked at how soon his brother is going after them, he naively thought that the SS had higher priorities.

““I thought so,” she says.

““I need your help getting us out of the city,” Jensen pleads, “and across the border.”

“Getting out of the city will be easy, but getting Jared across the border when he’s going to be named an enemy of the state is going to be a monumentally difficult task since they can’t take the train. Dianne might have the connections that would be useful.

““Poland would be the easiest,” she says and Jensen knows she’s on board. He breathes a sigh of relief.

““From there you can catch a boat somewhere.” Dianne takes a moment to think, “Jared’s Polish correct?” Jensen nods. “Does he still have relatives there?”

“Jensen racks his brain for any conversation he had with Jeff about where he came from, to the best of his knowledge they came from somewhere in what had been Pomerania.

““I think his family’s from Stettin,” Jensen says. “We’ll still be in Germany and that’s one more stop where we could be caught by the Nazis.”

““Mmm,” she says thoughtfully and they contemplate the problem in silence. _It’s not just enough to dump us across the border, Jensen thinks, we need to be in a city large enough to take a train to the nearest port, from there we can make our way to Paris._

““Could you get us to Posen ?” he asks, he doesn’t know a lot about the city, but Posen is large enough to make their way to the port city of Gdynia by train.

““Yes,” Dianne says with certainty. Jensen smiles, _There’s hope afterall._

““What time is it?” she asks him.

“Jensen takes out his pocket watch, and says “10 am,” before returning the watch to his pocket.

““Okay,” she says resolutely. “I need to put some plans together. I will have something in place by one. Can you meet me at Rossi’s at one thirty?”

“Jensen nods.

““Okay,” she says, “I’ll see you then.”

“Jensen heads back through the door and after a quick goodbye to Petra who asks him when her next piano lesson will be, it hurts him to lie to her and tell her soon. He leaves his brother’s house and goes to find Jared, after all his plans mean nothing if Jared doesn’t come with him.

~*~

“Wake up kleiner Bruder ,” Jakub cajoles “You need to get up.”

Jared groans and buries his face deeper into the pillow to show how much he does not agree with that plan. After the disaster that was last night, he’s decided he doesn’t care about life anymore. Last night was supposed to be some wonderful expression of love instead it brought about nothing but pain and humiliation. It hurt that Jensen would rather hold on to some ghost than actually try and have a relationship with him. Apparently, one last happy memory before he’s executed by the Nazis is too much to ask.

He sort of understood Jensen’s point about being the one left behind with memories and no consolation, but he just wanted one night. Until Jared triggered some traumatic memory Jensen was on board. What could have been a really incredible night ended in pain and tears.

So he really doesn’t want to get up and face the world, he just wants to lie in bed and wallow in his misery.

Suddenly, the covers are pushed back and a hand wraps around his ankle. Jared yelps as his brother yanks him out of bed by his ankles. He manages to land on his feet instead of falling on his face by leaning on the edge of the bed.

He turns around and glares at his brother. “That was uncalled for,” he says angrily.

Looking over his shoulder at the unoccupied bed and contemplating going back to sleep out of spite, but he’s up thanks to his [asshole] brother. He faces his brother, and scratches at his stomach, he wore only his undershorts to bed last night, as he says, “I’m up, what is so important that you had to wake me at … what time in the morning.”

“It’s a little before noon,” Jakub replies cheerfully, “Genevieve and Jensen are coming over for lunch at noon so look presentable.”

“Jensen?” his brain is too fuzzy to process this fact yet. _Why is Jensen coming here_?

“Jensen,” from Jeff’s tone, his brother thinks he’s being idiot. “The _Kerl_ you thought is the most beautiful man in existence.”

“I know who he is,” Jared says. “I just don’t know why he would come over here.”

“Because he’s your lover?” Jakub prompts, looks at him quizzically. “Why are you sleeping here anyway? Did something happen?”

Jared grabs his clothes from last night, a pair of black pants and shirt, that were hanging off a chair. Deciding the clothes are clean enough, he puts them on. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” Jared growls, he’s really not in the mood.

“Did you have performance anxiety?” Jakub continues. “Is Jensen a bad lay?”

He turns on his brother. “I said I really don’t want to talk about it, so can we just leave it alone.”

“Okay, I’ll leave it be,” Jakub raises his hands in surrender. “But that doesn’t change the fact that Jensen will be here in a few minutes so you should look somewhat presentable.”

Jakub leaves the room.

 _Why is he coming here?_ Jared wonders as he buttons up his pants. It can’t be for sex, because that would be weird and Jensen has firmly established that he doesn’t want to have sex with Jared. Also, Jensen doesn’t seem the type to come to Jared’s home midday for the purpose of sex. _So what is Jensen’s intent?_

He heads to the stove in the corner of the room where his brother is reheating the bigosz from yesterday. He looks over his brother’s shoulder, his stomach grumbles at the smell of the fragment meat and cabbage.

“Hey Jared, Can you grab the plates?,” Jakub asks as he eats a piece of sausage.

Jared grabs four plates from the small cupboard beside the stove, as well as utensils from the drawer below and sets the plates down by his brother. Jakub places a portion of bigosz on a plate and hands it to Jared, who carries the plate along with some leftover rye-bread to the kitchen table. He returns to grab the utensils and the other plates.

There’s a knock on the door that Jakub, after setting down the plate he’s carrying, answers. Jared sets the last plate on the table. His stomach flutters a little, when he hears his brother say, “Gen,” signaling the arrival of Jensen and Genevieve.

Jared collects himself, and then turns to face Jensen. He doesn’t really know what to say. Yesterday he thought their relationship was going in a completely different direction, but it turns out that he’s wrong. It’s not like he couldn’t be friends with Jensen, but he hasn’t had time to come to grips with such a drastic shift.

He scratches behind his head and greets Jensen with an awkward, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Jensen replies, smiling brightly, looking far too happy to see Jared for being just friends, similar to the way he greeted Jared yesterday. Weird, Jared thinks. Confusing him more is the fact that Jensen walks up to him and kisses him. The kiss is definitely not chaste, and goes a little too long for being in the company of other people. Jared relishes the feel of Jensen kissing him with such unabashed enthusiasm. Reluctantly he pushes Jensen away.

“What brings you here?” Jared says shortly, _Does Jensen honestly think he can play with his emotions like this_? Jensen looks incredibly happy about something. He’s clearly not mourning the loss of their relationship.

Jensen frowns, and Jared would think it’s really cute if he isn’t so annoyed with Jensen’s behavior right now.

In the background he hears Genevieve ask his brother, “What’s going on?”

His brother’s reply, “Don’t know, Jared doesn’t want to talk about it.”

Jared doesn’t care what they think he wants to get this over with and resolutely stares Jensen down. Jensen looks over his shoulder nervously at both Genevieve and Jakub. “Do you want to do this in front of everyone?” He seems uncomfortable, which Jared thinks is appropriate.

Jared makes eye contact with his brother, hoping Jakub will get the hint that he needs to be alone with Jensen. Jakub nods, and takes Genevieve’s arm in his.

“Gen,” Jakub says, “Let’s go buy some bread from der Bäckerei.”

They leave the apartment leaving him alone with Jensen. As soon as they leave, Jared finds himself pushed up against the wall and Jensen’s kissing him aggressively, one hand pulling Jared’s face down into the kiss, and the other laying across his heart. Jared surrenders to the kiss, and despite himself and wraps his hands around Jensen’s waist eliminating the gap between their bodies.

Jensen stops kissing him, and looks up at him, eyes shining with joy, “I’m sorry about last night,” he says. Jared is still trying to figure out Jensen’s odd behavior, he’s acting like he forgot what happened last night. _Why is he happy?_

“Jensen,” Jared begins, but is interrupted by Jensen’s closed-mouth kiss.

“Jared,” Jensen says, his hands rest on Jared’s chest. “I need you to listen. Last night I got swept up in the fact that we have less time together than I thought. I care about you and it hit me that I might not get a chance to be with you. You’re right that I’m still living with a ghost, and I want to apologize for putting you through that. You didn’t start this just be saddled with my issues.”

“So what changed?” Jared asks. It’s an important question because he really doesn’t want to be jerked around like this.

“We have more time,” Jensen looks jubilant. “I can save you.”

“What?” Jared can’t believe that Jensen is being so naïve, nothing can save him. “Jensen, I’m probably on the hit list. My family and friends have managed to royally piss off your brother, who’s a _Gruppenleiter_ , of course I’m dead.” An idea comes to him, “You asked for amnesty?”

Jensen nods, “He refused,” Jensen says in a tone that implies something even worse happened. “Meine Schwägerin is going to help.” He cups Jared’s cheek, “She thinks she can get us to Posen. From there I was thinking we could go to Paris?” his face screws up as he thinks. “Or the US? New York, maybe?” he starts stammering nervously. “New York or in the US might be better, we can leave this life behind, start over…” He trails off. “Jared talk to me.”His thumb runs across Jared’s cheekbone.

Jensen sounds hopeful, like the entire world is at their feet. It kills him to tell Jensen otherwise, because they don’t have time to achieve those admittedly wonderful dreams. He would love to live with Jensen in Paris or New York, or even Poland, but it just won’t happen. Jared can’t leave Berlin and runaway with Jensen, not when his brother and friends are in danger. Something with Jensen would be wonderful, but he’s not going to leave his brother behind because of the potential of their relationship. Jensen might be beautiful and intelligent, the type of man Jared can see himself spending the rest of his life with, but he’s not worth abandoning his brother. Not yet at least. He just couldn’t live with the guilt of leaving Jakub behind, and he would probably resent Jensen on some level. It’s unfair to all of them that this is happening, because of some bankrupt ideology he bought into years ago. “Jensen,” he places a finger on Jensen’s lips to silence him. “I can’t leave.”

Jensen’s happy expression withers, and he steps out of the circle of Jared’s arms. Jared wants to comfort him but thinks better of it. “But I found away to be together, I’m offering you a way to save yourself,” he steps forward and kisses Jared, he whispers against Jared’s lips “I’m offering you a life.”

Jared closes his eyes and pulls Jensen closer resting his forehead against Jensen’s. “I’ll never be able to live with myself if I go,” he begins, and the part of him that wants to hold on to the first person he’s ever wanted for more than one night. His brother would say that he should be selfish and accept the life Jensen’s offered, but he feels responsible for getting his brother involved in this life. “I’ll never forgive myself for leaving him to suffer alone. He’s my brother, you’re… something.” He shakes his head in frustration, because he doesn’t know how to describe Jensen. He’s not something casual, and he thinks he could love Jensen given time.

"Potential,” Jensen adds, “I’m …” he laughs, it’s short and bitter. “I wish I had my piano.”

Jared smiles, remembering how Jensen is at such a loss for words that he built an entire world through music for Jared. That moment seems so long ago now, seems a distant dream, before real life reared its ugly head. He feels like he’s aged an entire lifetime in the interim, even though it is two days ago.

“You could sing me a song,” Jared says with faux cheer, he’s barely holding it together, Jensen is so close warm in his arms, real and imperfect, someone he wishes he could hold on to. Jensen starts humming; he closes his eyes and lets the sound of Jensen’s rich tenor voice wash over him.

When he recognizes the song Jensen’s humming as the same one from yesterday; it’s too much to take and he breaks away from Jensen. He doesn’t know if Jensen’s using that song to manipulate him, or if it’s just that Jensen’s associated that song with Jared, whatever the reason he can’t handle being so close to Jensen. His will to stay true to his moral code will break down if he spends more time in Jensen’s arms. He doesn’t look at Jensen as he says angrily, “I wish we had more time.” He feels wetness on his cheeks that he wipes away with his thumb.

Jensen’s hand is resting on his shoulder, “Jared,” he beseeches. “Please turn around.” Jared shakes his head. “Jared,” Jensen’s voice is more insistent. “I need you to look at me when I say this.”

Jared reluctantly turns around, and it’s a relief to see that Jensen’s eyes are wet with tears, that he’s as upset about this as Jared. Jensen clasps Jared’s hands in a parody of a bride and groom saying their vows.

Jensen takes a deep breath then says with surprising equanimity, “I want you to come with me, to build a life together away from all of this,” his smile is wistful, and Jared wonders what magical life Jensen’s conjuring up. “But, I don’t want you to resent me. I don’t want you broken … if you need to stay, then I have to let you go.” Jensen’s voice tightens as he says those last words.

Jared looks down at their joined hands, and then into Jensen’s eyes. “I’m staying,” he says, “You can attest to this, but survivor’s guilt is not easy to live with.” Jensen nods. “If I go, all of those things will happen. I will resent you, and not be able to live with myself for abandoning my principles, it will destroy this…us.” There’s really nothing more to say and he anxiously awaits Jensen’s response.

“That’s it then,” Jensen says.

“Yeah,” Jared replies, Jensen lets go and steps away indicating his acceptance.

“My brother told me that you, your brother, and friends will be included in the first wave,” Jensen pauses, “Tonight, my brother is coming after you tonight.”

“Then we should have one last hurrah,” Jared realizes that he sounds like he’s manipulating Jensen into sex, and Jensen looks appalled.

“I don’t mean that,” Jared stammers, blushing. “I just meant with our friends. I respect your reason for not wanting sex. I think it’s admirable that you want to stick with your principles.” Jensen just studies him with an amused smile, which doesn’t do anything for his discomfort. Jared’s making a complete fool of himself, but it’s adding some levity to an otherwise incredibly maudlin conversation. “Say something.”

“I know you didn’t mean sex,” Jensen says amusement coloring his voice. “I don’t think so little of you to believe that you would manipulate me into having sex.”

Jared notices that Jensen’s eyes seem greener because his eyes seem to brighten when he’s joyful, and he wears his joy on his face. This is one of his tells, Jared thinks. _This is how I can tell whether Jensen is truly happy or not in the future._ This discovery is bittersweet, because he has no future with Jensen. Learning to read Jensen’s expressions is useless, because he’ll probably be dead by the end of tonight.

“That’s good,” Jared replies “I’d hate to die thinking that you thought I was manipulative.”

He winces as Jensen’s smile fades, returns to that tight and all too fake smile he wears whenever he’s upset but trying to appear otherwise. The awkwardness they experienced in the café returns. Jared wishes that he would stop bring up his death sentence, because it kills any conversation their having. He’s reminding both of them of his impending death, and it tarnishes everything.

“Can you stay?” Jared asks uncertainly. “I’d like you to stay.”

Jensen pulls out his watch, checks the time, and says, “I have some time before I must leave to meet with Dianne.”

“Then stay,” Jared repeats, “have lunch.”

"I will.”

Jensen moves towards Jared, his eyes heavy with longing and affection. Jared has been the recipient of that look enough to know that Jensen is going to kiss him. His arms of their own accord pull Jensen closer, and he finds that dip in Jensen’s back where he likes to rest his hands, Jensen’s hands find the back of his head. The kiss contains every unspoken hope and wish that they had for their relationship, that one last kiss before they part forever. Jensen starts to break away; Jared refuses to let him go and deepens the kiss. He’s going to continue their last moment as a couple as long as possible.

The door opens and his brother and Genevieve enter, he and Jensen cling to each other for a moment before breaking apart.

“Lunch?” Jared asks, hoping he sounds somewhat cheerful.

~*~

Jensen’s fifteen minutes late arriving at Rossi’s. Lunch with Jared was enjoyable, but bittersweet, and it is hard to leave, to leave Jared behind. As they said goodbye at the door they both knew that Jensen was not coming back. They’d said everything already. When Jared walked him to the door he thought that they would exchange some civil goodbyes and that would be it. Instead Jared had pulled him close and they exchanged one last lingering kiss that Jensen would remember forever.

His optimistic attitude from this morning is gone. It is all a lost cause, he couldn’t save Jared. Another lover lost, Jensen thinks to himself as he walks in a daze to the counter. He pretends to be cheerful as he orders his usual cappuccino.

Dianne is sitting at a corner table, looking around anxiously. Jensen probably should have left sooner, but it is hard to pull himself away considering these were his last moments with Jared.

Dianne’s anxious expression relaxes when she sees him. Jensen sits across from her, he feels awkward because he doesn’t know what to say. How can he tell her that it will all be for naught, since Jared refuses to leave Berlin? He meant it when he says he admired Jared’s sense of honor, but the really selfish part of him wished that Jared had some self-preservation and taken him up on his offer.

“You’re fifteen minutes late,” she scolds. “I don’t have a lot of time, before Johannes will become suspicious about my prolonged absence.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen hopes he sounds contrite. “I had lunch at the Padalecki’s and I lost track of time.”

“Did you tell Jared?” she asks.

“Yes.”

His voice must be giving away enough of his mood because Dianne asks, “What’s wrong?”

Jensen shakes his head, his emotions too raw to want to talk about this right now.

“Jensen,” Dianne presses. Sometimes he wishes she would know when to leave well enough alone. “If something happened.”

She looks worried, and he hates that she thinks he’s so fragile that he’ll break after a relationship that is only two days old. It’s partially true, Jared’s death is going to be traumatic because of its potential and leave him wondering what could have been for years to come, but he’d rather not have her think that of him.

Frau Rossi arrives with his cappuccino, preventing him from asking Dianne to explain. He gives her a nod of thanks, and she walks away from the table.

Once Frau Rossi is a comfortable distance away from the table he tells her, “He’s staying behind.” He hopes she doesn’t press too much because he’s still processing everything. “I want to thank you for putting all of this together, I’m grateful, but it’s all for naught.”

“Jensen…” she starts then stops when Jensen raises his hand to signal her to stop talking.

“I said before that I don’t want to talk about it yet,” Jensen hopes his tone is warning enough at how unwelcome this topic of conversation is at this moment. “I meant it. I’m just not ready.”

She considers him for a moment. “He could survive.”

Jensen hadn’t considered that, it’s oddly hopeful coming from someone as pessimistic as Dianne. “His chances are slim.”

Jensen huffs in frustration because this is bringing up issues he doesn’t want to talk about. “He’s not going to abandon his brother, not unless Jakub Padalecki dies.” _I don’t want that to happen._ “We’ve parted ways.”

“I’m sorry,” Dianne says. “If it’s still needed, everything is in place.” Jensen nods, because it’s clear that she’s trying to help. “Will you be okay?” she asks with concern.

“Not right now,” Jensen says thinking honesty is the best course of action. “It’ll take time.”

Jensen looks down at his ignored cappuccino and stares at the pattern the espresso made when poured into the milk. He thinks the world is trying to tell him something, because the shape in his café looks remarkably like a broken heart. _I don’t need my café to remind me of the state of my heart, he thinks._

“Jensen, are you happy here?” Dianne asks. He looks up from his café to meet her curious expression.

“Huh?” Jensen replies confused.

“I don’t think you’re happy in Berlin,” Dianne prompts, she sips her coffee.

“I’m lonely,” Jensen replies. “You and Gen are wonderful friends, but I miss the companionship of a lover. Otherwise, I have a life here.”

“That you’re willing to give up to be with a man you barely know,” Dianne states. “You can’t be completely happy.” Dianne pauses, and looks uncertain, like she’s working up the courage to say something. It’s unexpected from his usually confident Schwägerin. “Would you consider leaving Germany without Jared?“

“At times… yes,” Jensen replies cautiously, still unsure what she’s trying to get at. “In my most bitter moods I’ve toyed with the idea.”

Dianne nods, seemingly satisfied with his answer. Jensen feels a little lost, not quite sure what she was looking for. Dianne rises from her seat, collects her coat from the back of her chair and purse lying on the table, Jensen rises with her.

“I must leave,” she says reluctantly. “I’ve been gone too long, who knows what mischief Flo has gotten into by now.” She leans in and kisses his cheek, whispering, “Whatever happens I’m here,” before walking out the door.

Jensen sits back down and contemplates his cappuccino with the broken heart that mocks him.

  
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	4. Part Four

  


“Ich möchte eine Toast auf Christian Kane aussprechen!“ Jakub says standing and holding up his glass. Jared and the other men at the table raise their glasses in response. “Ein weiterer, guter Kamerad ist von uns gegangen, möge er im Frieden ruhen er im Tod Frieden finden." Jakub lifts his glass higher, “Auf Christian!“ 

They solemnly lift their glasses in acknowledgement; say “Auf Christian!” and then toss back their vodka.

As darkness falls, the expectation that the Nazis would be knocking on their door soon, Jared’s thoughts turned from fond reminisces of his youth to regrets and dreams that never came to fruition. Even the good humor Michael Rosenbaum displayed throughout the afternoon faded. Jakub gives Jared a reassuring smile, which Jared returns in kind even though he doesn’t really feel that reassured. The fact that he’s awaiting his execution is making him unsettled. This is one of those times, where even the false appearance of calm was better than nothing.

Jensen left after lunch, for some mysterious meeting with Dianne, he and Jakub brought their closest friends together for an evening of reminiscing. Jensen wasn’t clear who else would in the line of fire, but they were all too willing to provide backup for when the Nazis arrive.

Everyone arrived around three, including Genevieve who brought an expensive bottle of vodka. He’s not sure where she acquired the bottle, but he was grateful to taste something good before he died. Rosenbaum immediately called her a “goddess” and quickly took control of the bottle, ensuring that their glasses where never empty.

Jakub disappeared with Genevieve for about a couple hours, probably to Genevieve’s apartment, and returned alone just after sunset. By that point everyone had become so maudlin, that the good-natured ribbing the guys usually gave Jakub was nonexistent; Jakub’s last moments with his Geliebte weren’t a joking matter.

Jakub engaged in conversation, but Jared could tell that his brother’s thoughts were occupied with Genevieve.

“Do you have any regrets?” Jared asks his brother.

Jakub studies him for a moment, probably wondering why Jared’s bringing this up, before saying, “I wish I’d recovered better from the war. That I hadn’t needed to give myself wholeheartedly to a cause after the war, in order to maintain sanity.”

“So, you wish you hadn’t fought for the cause?” Jared inquires, hoping for sincerity or maybe absolution for leading his brother to the Komminismus.

“Jared, regardless of whether I regret that choice,” Jakub sounds exasperated, “I made the choice for myself, not you.” Jakub laughs, “It’s supposed to be the older brother that feels responsible for their younger siblings life choices, not the other way around.”

“If I hadn’t become a Kommunist,” Jared begins.

“You can’t know if I wouldn’t have become a Kommunist,” Jakub interrupts. “Jared, whatever regrets I have about the way my life played out, none of it is your fault.”

 _So you’ve reached acceptance_ , Jared thinks. He wishes he could accept his fate, but he’s still bitter that siding with the KPD destroyed his chance at a relationship. He had politics, but his personal life was sorely lacking until he met Jensen.

“I’m glad you had Genevieve,” Jared blurts out. “I’m glad you were happy for a while.”

Jakub smiles, “It certainly lessons the sting.”

Jakub looks uncomfortable, which is understandable since they don’t really talk like this to each often. Jakub picks up his glass, and asks, “What happened with you and Jensen? I thought he’d return after his meeting.”

 _Talk about a regret and a dream unfulfilled_ , thinks Jared. He wishes there had been more between them, but in a way their goodbye was satisfactory. He won’t die still angry at Jensen, they came to an understanding earlier that day there was nothing else to say. It was sad, but it was over between them.

Jared shrugs, trying to hide his sadness behind nonchalance. “We tried, but life got in the way.”

“So, nothing?” Jakub’s surprise is expected. He and Jensen hadn’t been discreet about their feelings for one another around him.

“It just wasn’t meant to be.” Jared tries to hide the hurt in his voice, it still hurts that he and Jensen never got a chance. “In another life, maybe.”

“I’m sorry,” Jakub says, and in a moment of uncharacteristic tenderness squeezes his shoulder. It’s a fleeting touch, but Jared appreciates the gesture.

"Thank you.”

“I always wished …” a loud bang on the door interrupts Jakub.

They all freeze and look towards the door, knowing instinctively it’s the SS. They calmly set down their glasses, and pick up their weapons, knives since they weren’t able to own guns, lying in the center of the table.

The knife feels odd in Jared’s hand, awkward and foreign. He refused to pick up a weapon after fighting during the tail end of the war, preferring the pen to the sword.

“Herren Jared und Jakub Padalecki,” a harsh voice yells through the door, “Sie sind verhaftet!”

They look to Jakub, their leader, for direction. At Jakub’s nod they rise in unison like a well-oiled machine and stand in a half-circle in the center of the room around Jakub in the center, waiting for the fight to begin. Jared feels jittery with anticipation, his mind wondering exactly how he’s going to die. Schooling his nerves, as he waits for Jakub open the door and let their executioners in.

Jakub turns around, for a moment Jared thinks he’s going to hug him or offer some words of comfort. Jakub must ignore that impulse and instead raises his eyebrow in question, Ready? Jared nods, he’ll never be ready but prolonging the inevitable will just make things worse. Jakub nods, and steps forward pausing to take a breath before opening the door to let the hoard in.

The first shot is sudden and jarring, Jared doesn’t see the shooter until after Jakub falls to the floor. It’s a young man, who can’t be more than twenty. He wears his black uniform with pride, and Jared is glad that he won’t have to watch his country once again chew through and dehumanize its young men.

After the first shot, the SS enter the apartment instantly. The few in the SS that have guns, two in all, are using them to their advantage to quickly take down Jared’s fellow friends, quickly dwindling their number to four. Jared spares a glance at his brother; Jakub is holding his hand against the bullet wound in his stomach that’s bleeding profusely, grimacing in pain as he turns on his side away from the fighting.

Jared rushes into the fray, charging one of the SS grunts that are raising a gun towards Brock Kelly, slashing out with his knife at the man’s gun hand. Jared’s opponent cries out and drops the gun; it clatters to the floor, and he grasps at his hand. Jared takes advantage by slicing his throat. Jared wants to vomit at the thought that he just killed someone, but he barely has enough time recover before another man is attacking him with his knife slashing at Jared’s face. Jared just barely manages to get out of the way and steps back. The next attack overbalances his opponent, and Jared uses that momentum to force his knife into his attacker’s stomach. With sickening ease, Jared thrusts the knife upwards killing his opponent.

Jared checks on Brock, who has managed to disarm and kill one of his attackers, the same young man who shot his brother. Jared observes with glee that Brock is in the process of dealing with his last attacker with the gun he must have taken from the fallen gunman.

Rosenbaum and Caleb, another of his brother’s oldest friends, are still unharmed and fighting two opponents in the same area of the room as Brock. There are three bodies beside them. Jared turns his attention back to his brother, since all three of his remaining friends appear to be winning.

Jared picks up the discarded gun, as he makes his way to his brother, who’s lying on the other side of the room. Jared’s blood runs cold seeing Johannes Ackles looming over his brother, gun aimed at his brother’s head. He’s smiling. Jared aims the gun in his hand at Ackles, but before Jared can get a shot off, Ackles fires. Jakub goes still, his eyes still open in shock.

Jared sees red, and lets out a guttural “NO!” as he aims for Ackles. His shot hits Ackles in the shoulder of his gun hand, causing Ackles to drop the gun. Jared aims for the back of his head, but the click of the gun indicates that the chamber is empty. Jared drops the gun, and prepares to fight with his knife.

In the meantime, Ackles has managed to grab his own knife and is charging Jared. Jared must be extremely lucky, because he manages to catch Ackles across the stomach on the first blow. Ackles’ eyes widen in shock as he stumbles back covering up the wound with his hand. Jared finishes him off with a thrust to the heart. Jared gets a sick satisfaction from watching the play of emotions in Ackles’ eyes as he dies, especially seeing the complete bafflement that a Polacke could kill someone like him. Jared gives the knife another twist and Ackles’ body falls limply to the floor.

Jared lets his body fall, turning around to finish off the rest of the SS. There’s only one left, who’s raising his knife at Jared with a trembling hand. _I must paint a frightening picture_ , Jared thinks. Brock, Rosenbaum, and Caleb are circling the young man, poised to attack. Something in the young man’s fearful expression touches Jared. _He’s so painfully young, I can’t kill him_. Jared already feels enough guilt and disgusted by the lives he’s taken today.

Jared lowers his weapon, “Let him go.” Rosenbaum looks about to protest, but something about Jared’s steady expression makes him bite his tongue. “He’s no harm to us.”

Jared lowers the gun, “You can go,” he tells the young man. Without out even thanking Jared for his moment of mercy, the young man runs out of the apartment.

Jared lowers the gun and breathes a sigh of relief. _We survived._

“We should have killed him,” Rosenbaum’s says in argumentative tone. “He’ll tell his superiors.”

“I noticed none of you contradicted my order,” Jared counters. “If you were so willing to kill him you would have done it yourselves.” Rosenbaum works his jaw, but remains silent.

“What do we do now?” Brock asks sounding lost, he’s kneeling beside Caleb’s dead body. _I shouldn’t have let the kid live_ , Jared think guiltily, _he can identify us all. We’re all fugitives._

“Get out of the city by any means possible,” Rosenbaum replies, he turns to Jared. Looking anxious, “You are in the most danger, since you killed Ackles.”

“I have a plan,” Jared replies. He knows exactly whom he’s going to see.

Rosenbaum frowns and glances at Johannes Ackles’ dead body lying on the floor near Jared. “Are you going to see Jensen Ackles?” Jared nods, and Rosenbaum’s frown deepens. “Be careful around him?”

Jared bristles and Rosenbaum’s insinuation that Jensen would hurt him. If there were one thing he knows is that Jensen would never intentionally cause him harm. Instead of calling Rosenbaum on this he just replies, “I will,” to placate him. “Pass auf dich auf,” he makes eye contact with Brock. “Du Auch.” 

Brock, probably still shell shocked, just nods and stands up.

“Likewise,” Rosenbaum replies, after one last look about the room leaves.

Brock pulls him into a hug, “Auf wiedersehen,” he says softly.

“Auf widersehen,” Jared replies. Brock lets go of him and swiftly leaves the apartment.

Jared kneels beside his brother’s body, and makes a sign of the cross on his brother’s forehead, hoping that if there is a God, he will accept his brother into heaven. “Möge er im Frieden ruhen er im Tod Frieden finden."

  


  


It’s a miracle that Jared makes it from his apartment in Wedding to Jensen’s apartment in Prenzlauer Berg without being caught by the authorities. It probably helped that he stayed in the shadows, taking back-alleys and the more unlit streets where he would be less likely to be seen by the Polizei or the SS.

His mind is overwhelmed with emotions, and he’s barely holding it together. His calm progressively wore off, as he got closer to Jensen’s apartment building, the reality of his situation settling in. His brother was dead, shot in the head by Johannes Ackles like some injured animal. Additionally, the enjoyment he felt killing Ackles unsettles him, he’s never killed someone and felt anything but dispassion. He just wants the warmth and comfort of Jensen’s arms to calm him.

Someone is entering Jensen’s apartment building as he arrives and he uses that opportunity to sneak into the building without being seen. The entry way is fairly well lit, so he hides in an alcove until the coast is clear. He rushes up the stairs to Jensen’s apartment, praying that he’s there.

He knocks on the door, not too loud doesn’t want to alert the neighbors. It seems like he waits for an eternity, but finally he hears cautious steps behind the door, Thank God, Jensen’s home.

“Jensen,” he calls through the door, following with another knock “It’s Jared, please let me in.”

There’s some clicking as Jensen fusses with the locks, then the door opens and Jensen is standing there. Jensen just stares at him in shock; it occurs to Jared that they never imagined this scenario. Jensen’s shock turns into relief, and Jared relaxes a little. He doesn’t know if Jensen will turn him away once he finds out Johannes’s murder. He hides his hands in his pockets, ashamed of the blood, both metaphorical and literal, on his hands.

“Thank God, you’re here,” Jared says, his voice cracks. Instinctively, he reaches out for Jensen, and flinches when Jensen shies away. Jared looks down at his hands self-consciously; in his joy at seeing Jensen he’d forgotten how he must look.

 _I can’t face him_ , Jared’s determination waivers in the face of Jensen’s revulsion, _I killed his brother and he’ll never forgive me._ He turns to go, but Jensen grabs his left wrist and pulls him back. Still holding his wrist, Jensen uses his right hand to close the door.

Jensen’s eyes are filled with a mixture of worry and relief, Jared turns away feeling unworthy of any sympathy. “You’re alive,” Jensen says quietly.

“I’m …”

Jensen raises a finger to stop him. “Shh….” Jensen’s voice is calm and soothing, his free hand cups Jared’s cheek. Jared closes his eyes and leans into the touch, the feel of Jensen’s soft hands against his skin. “Not yet, okay?” Jensen says softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Jared lets Jensen lead him to the bed without protest; he’s in too much of a daze to do much else. He sits on the edge, the bed is soft and he sinks in. Jensen stands in the ‘V’ of his legs and leans in to kiss him.

The kiss isn’t meant as anything more than comfort, but Jared wraps his arms around the musician, finding his favorite spot on his lower back, and brings him closer to deepen the kiss. He needs as much contact as possible. Jensen places his hands on Jared’s face and opens his mouth to welcome Jared’s tongue, that act of surrender that’s become so familiar.

Jensen stops and places a peck on his forehead. “I almost lost you,” Jensen says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought you were dead, I was in this apartment waiting for someone to come tell me you were dead.” Jensen’s voice breaks and he buries his face in Jared’s hair, clinging to him like Jared will float away at any moment.

Jared pulls him closer, trying to erase any space between them. Jensen is so warm and alive, unlike his dead brother that he was forced to leave lying on the floor of their apartment. Jared kisses the corner of Jensen’s jaw, as his hands move in circles along Jensen’s lower back. He can feel the tears start to come, born out of a mixture of sadness for his brother and relief that Jensen hasn’t turned him away. He moves, and Jared makes a noise of protest.

Jensen kisses him on the lips; it’s brief and leaves Jared wanting more. “I’m going to get a wash cloth,” Jensen soothes, “Clean you up.” Jensen brushes his lips against the top of Jared’s head and leaves the room.

In the other room, Jared hears water running and a basin being filled up. He closes his eyes and focuses on the sound of the water hitting, trying to pick out the various pitches timbres, freeing his mind of the horrible imagery of the past couple hours. The falling water is replaced by the sound of the cloth being soaked in the water and then wrung out.

Jensen sets something down on the bed next to him. Jared adjusts his seat on the bed and there’s a sloshing sound as his movement disturbs the washbowl. Gently, Jensen grasps a hand, and begins to wipe the blood off his hands, quietly humming. He loses himself in the feel of the cloth against his skin and Jensen’s voice, comforted by the lullaby.

He’s so lost that he doesn’t notice that Jensen is no longer cleaning him off, but instead working the buttons at the collar of his shirt. Jared can’t figure out why he bothers, his shirt is beyond repair, Jensen could just tear the buttons and it wouldn’t matter. He opens his eyes, to watch Jensen’s elegant hands finish with the last button.

Jensen hums, the now familiar melody of their song, as he trails a finger down Jared’s chest. He doesn’t move beyond those light touches, seemingly content to just trace the outline of Jared’s muscles with his fingers. Jensen’s is studying him, waiting for Jared to tell him something, his hand pauses its exploration at Jared’s heart, while the other gently touches Jared’s face, “What happened?”

 _Not yet_ , Jared shakes his head. He’s not prepared to lose Jensen if he reacts badly to Jared killing Johannes. He’s too selfish to feel guilty about keeping that knowledge from Jensen.

He reaches out, kissing Jensen desperately, who stiffens from surprise then returns the kiss with equal fervor. Jensen shifts so the angle is less awkward; Jared scoots back on the bed so that he can support Jensen as he straddles his lap. God I can’t give this up, he thinks running his hands down Jensen’s back to un-tuck Jensen’s shirt. _If he abandons me …_ He pushes that thought away and his hand seeks out the warm skin at the base of his spine. _Jensen’s Alive_ , he rejoices, _He’s alive and with me._

Jared’s lips find the pulse point on the side of Jensen’s neck; it’s intoxicating beneath his lips, a proof of life. Jensen gasps as he sucks harder, marking Jensen’s skin. “Jared,” Jensen says reverently, he feels like less of a ghost hearing his name aloud, recognition that he’s not some nameless stranger in Jensen’s arms.

He trails a hand down Jensen’s spine, dipping below the waistband of Jensen’s pants. Jensen shudders when he reaches the soft skin at the cleft of his buttocks. He gazes into Jensen’s eyes, hoping that Jensen can see the pain and desperation he feels. Jensen seems more receptive, though he was last time they were together like this. He wants this from Jensen, he can’t handle it if he backs away again.

“Jens …”

He’s cut off by Jensen’s greedy and possessive kiss, it’s a sign that Jensen’s not going to passively let Jared do what he wants. It’s a commitment. Whatever he was going to say is now unimportant, because he knows that Jensen is going to give him what he needs, but only in his own time.

“I know,” Jensen mummers against his lips, he cups Jared’s cheek, thumb running along his lip.

“I’m yours,” Jensen shakily undoes the buttons of his shirt, revealing his pale freckled skin. The shirt falls to the floor carelessly, as Jensen leaves his lap. Jared wants to protest the distance, but continues to watch Jensen as he undresses.

Finally, Jensen is naked, and Jared takes in the broadness of his chest and shoulders, the golden trail of hair that leads to his erect member. Jensen steps forward, and kisses Jared hungrily as he guides Jared’s hand down to his cock. Jared squeezes it slowly savoring the feel of the flesh underneath his hand. His fingers travel behind Jensen’s balls, he rubs a slow circle around his tight hole and Jensen leans in; whispers in his ear, “All of me,” before pulling back to look Jared in the eye.

Jared is overwhelmed by the heat and longing in those eyes. Jensen is offering all of himself to Jared, and he accepts with a hungry kiss.

~*~

Awareness comes slowly as Jared wakes up in the gray light of pre-dawn; his eyes are still heavy with sleep and resistant to the signals from his brain to open. Jared lies there in an incredibly comfortable bed as his body wakes up. His eyes blink open, and he becomes aware that he’s not in his own room; the ceiling he’s sleepily staring up at isn’t cracked or blackened with grime, and the mattress is soft instead of lumpy and uncomfortable.

His arm is numb, when he tries to move it to get the blood flowing, something heavy prevents him. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Jensen, nestled against his shoulder using him as a pillow, right arm flung across his chest, hand open and resting over his heart, leg hooked around Jared’s.

Jensen sleeps peacefully, the sleep of a man untouched by the horrors of death, untouched by the true horrors that one man can inflict on another. Jensen was just young enough to escape enlistment into the infantry during the Great War, Jared envies him that innocence. Jared only served a couple months in the trenches, but the horrors of the battlefield were enough to give him nightmares, even years later. The nightmares were always about the aftermath of the battles, when the adrenaline wore off and Jared had time to weigh his actions. Killing Johannes Ackles had been different though. Jared just never thought he could enjoy killing another human being. He never thought he was capable of such cold-blooded violence, but apparently all he needed was the right circumstances.

He winces as he moves his arm from underneath Jensen’s head, the blood returning to his arm makes every movement hurt. After untangling himself from Jensen, he shifts to lie on his side still facing Jensen, arm bent under his head. Jensen stirs and readjusts himself so his head is on the pillow, the other arm rests on Jared’s hip, his leg tangles with Jared’s once more. He remains asleep.

Once Jensen settles, Jared pulls him in closer, relishing the feeling of having him near, instinctively tracing the concave valley at the base of Jensen’s spine, fascinated by the exaggerated contour, provoking a sleepy “Jared” from Jensen. He can’t tell if it’s in protest or pleasure.

Jared feels a little guilty because he’s clearly bothering Jensen, but he needs the comfort of touching Jensen. Contact with someone who’s not dead. Jensen shifts some more, burrows his head into the pillow with a groan of annoyance. After a moment, his eyes blink open.

"Sorry,” Jared apologizes. “I didn't mean to wake you."

Jensen snuggles closer and kisses him softly, "I don't mind."

They lie wrapped around each other in silence, just enjoying being near one another. Jensen’s hand maps out the contours of his chest, his eyes follow that path of his hands, seemingly fascinated by Jared’s muscles. Occasionally tapping out a rhythm on his skin, something no lover has ever done before. Jared watches him and wonders what music Jensen hears that would prompt him to do such a thing.

“What happened?” Jensen asks, thumbing at Jared’s hip. _Trying to sooth me into confessing my sins._

“Jared?” Jensen asks again, he looks pained that’s forcing Jared to talk about his issues. “I don’t know what happened. I have experienced loss before, and I know that it doesn’t help to ignore your pain.” Jensen’s hand cups his cheek, as he kisses him softly, trying to show support for what he is going through. “Please tell me,” he whispers “I can’t help you if you refuse to tell me what’s wrong.”

 _You won’t want to help me when it’s over_. Jared takes a deep breath, bracing himself for Jensen’s inevitable abandonment. It’s not fair to avoid the issue, Jensen needs to know; he lost a brother too.

“We thought if the group was together, our chances for survival were higher.” _Didn’t turn out as planned_ , Jared thought bitterly.

"We spent the afternoon reminiscing about the early days,” he smiles wistfully. “I’d forgotten some of the excitement of those early days, in my bitterness about how it all turned out. It was nice to talk about that time with fondness again.”

Jensen nods. “We sometimes forget the good things when tragedy strikes.”

“It felt like we were back in the trenches, a bunch of soldiers sitting around reminiscing about home while waiting through a barrage for the next charge to begin. All of us were sitting there talking pleasantly, while our knives lay unsheathed on the table ready for battle.”

”When they came,” his voice cracks “Jakub was the one to answer the door. They shot him immediately, he was the first to fall. I wanted to go to him, but I was too busy trying to fight off my own opponents. Jakub had a stomach wound, so there wasn’t much I could have done.”

“Ack -- Your brother,” Jared corrects, referring to him as Ackles in this context is too harsh considering what happened. “wanted to make sure that Jakub stayed dead, or just wanted to have the pleasure of killing him himself., I’m not sure” either option still left Jakub dead “The look on his face as he hovered over my brother was … he was smiling,” Jensen looks sad, but unsurprised by this revelation.

“Your brother just shot him in the head and didn’t even flinch, he was almost,” Jared racks his brain for the right word to describe Ackles’ satisfied smile, “overjoyed to be killing my brother, like my brother’s life meant nothing. How can someone value life so little?” he asks with disbelief.

Jensen looks hurt, but remains silent. Jared hates to ruin any happy impression Jensen had of his brother, but the harsh truth is that regardless of how much Johannes Ackles probably cared about Jensen, he was a monster. Jensen just shakes his head, unable to answer. He wonders if Jensen ever had the same thought about his brother.

"I was so angry, that that worthless excuse of a human being just killed my brother,” he continues, unable to hold back his true feelings. Jensen flinches at hearing his brother described as “worthless”, but remains silent.

“My brother was a good man, …” Jared begins, but falters when he can’t hold back the tears, the impact of what’s happening finally hitting him. Jensen embraces him, the hand under the pillow now on the back of his neck. Jensen doesn’t offer up any platitudes, just holds him as he cries on Jensen’s chest.

“None of us deserved this,” Jared says when he can find his voice. “And I don’t deserve you.”

Jensen loosens his embrace so that he can look him in the eye. “What?”

Jared turns into the pillow, not wanting to see the expression on Jensen’s face. Jensen reaches for his jaw and forces him to look into his eyes. “Why would you say that?”

“I killed your brother,” Jared says quietly, “I was just so angry.” Jared knows his tone is too cold, but he doesn’t have any guilt about Johannes’ death.

Jensen’s eyes widen, and he bolts out of Jared’s arms. Jensen rests his hands on his knees as he cradles his head. He’s quiet, too quiet. Jared expected some outburst of emotion, not this stony silence. _He’s not even crying._

Jared sits up as well, and reaches out for Jensen, resting his hand on Jensen’s shoulder. “Jensen,” Jared begins, unsure of what to say.

“I know what my brother was, Jared,” Jensen interrupts. “I know he was heartless and cruel towards those that he felt deserve it.”

Jensen lifts his head up, but he doesn’t look at Jared. “We never understood each other. He was really our father’s son, very masculine, very …” Jensen waves his hand, expecting Jared to fill in the blank.

“Yet,” Jensen continues, “he stood up for me against our father. He understood enough to know that I would never become what my parent’s expected of me.”

“My brother is why I’m a musician,” Jensen says. It’s a shocking statement that a someone like Johannes Ackles would want to support his brother’s artistic dreams. “He recognized that music was innately part of me. He helped me convince my parents that I wasn’t suited to the family business, and I should study music in Vienna instead.”

 _But he’s a murder_. “Jensen,” Jared says. “It doesn’t excuse anything.”

Jensen looks at Jared over his shoulder, “I know, Jared.” Jensen faces Jared. He sits cross-legged and hands folded in his lap, clearly frustrated, shoulders tensed and biting his lip. "Can we make this work? Jensen asks, "I'm going to miss him, Jared. But I don't want you to hate me for that."

"Miss your brother ...." Jared doesn't know what to do with that. "Why?"

“He’s my brother,” Jensen’s tone suggests that’s reason enough, but to Jared it’s not, being family doesn’t excuse of unspeakable crimes. “He wasn’t always cruel or heartless, at least not to me.”

“You ask how I could mourn him?” Jensen’s gaze is steadfast, he doesn’t waiver. “I mourn the man he was before the war. The brother that always was on my side even if he couldn’t understand me.”

“Jensen,” Jared’s worried, he can’t lose Jensen, not after everything. “What does this mean?”

"I don’t know,” Jensen sounds broken, lost, conflicted.

“What does this mean?” Jared repeats again, their future together is in Jensen’s hands. He can’t force Jensen to be with him if he Jared’s committed an unforgivable crime. He waits anxiously for Jensen’s answer.

“We try,” Jensen says.

“Okay,” Jared smiles, relieved. Jensen isn’t going to abandon him. “We give this a shot.”

Jared leans in and plants a light kiss on Jensen’s lips, opening his mouth to let in Jensen’s insistent tongue. When kneeling becomes uncomfortable, Jared leans back against the headboard, bringing Jensen with him. Jensen settles between Jared’s open legs, and wraps his arms around Jared’s neck. Jensen smiles, nips at Jared’s bottom lip playfully, then goes back to kissing Jared. Jared looses himself in the slow lazy interplay between their tongues. Content just to kiss Jensen.

“So all we need to do is get out of Germany.” Jared tries to hide his unease by making this sound accomplishing it is child’s play. “I assume you have a plan?”

Jensen resettles on the bed, sitting between Jared’s legs with his legs on either side of Jared’s waste. Jared runs his hand along the side of Jensen’s thighs. He starts kissing up Jensen’s neck, paying more attention to the area beneath Jensen’s jaw where Jensen seems particularly responsive. Jensen moans, while his hands trace along the inside of his thighs.

“Dianne, meine Schwägerin, has a plan,” Jensen says breathily.

Jared freezes; the mention of any of the Ackles cools his amorous mood.

“Dianne Ackles?” Jared asks in disbelief. His impression was that Dianne Ackles was completely under her husband’s thumb, she wouldn’t do something so brazen. “You’re joking.”

Jensen frowns, “Jared, she’s not a good little houswife,” Jensen admonishes, Jared feels a little guilty because he thought he was above judging based on first impressions alone. “You’ve probably never given her much thought, but Dianne is a formidable woman.”

“I just didn’t think you would be close enough to any of your family.”

“You’ll see,” Jensen says, “You just have to meet her.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Jared’s still a little skeptical about Dianne, but decides to trust Jensen. Jensen wouldn’t trust her without a good reason.

Jared places a light kiss on Jensen’s forehead. “So where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere where no one will care,” Jensen replies. “Paris, or we can leave Europe behind and go to the US.”

“I’d like to see Paris,” Jared begins, “Maybe we can start there.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Jensen smiles. “A new beginning.”

“A new beginning,” Jared echoes, he feels hopeful and excited for the first time in a while. Their lips meet, Jared means it to be brief, but Jensen has other ideas his hand on the back of Jared’s neck keeps him in place as Jensen takes possession of his mouth. Kissing Jared passionately.

“So what’s the plan for today?” Jared asks when Jensen lets him up for air.

“Well I have to withdraw my savings,” Jensen replies, . “I was thinking we could take you to Dianne’s house, where you’ll be safer. “

“Hiding in plain sight,” Jared muses. “It’s a good idea.”

“I’ll need to pack,” Jensen continues. “So we could leave around nine for Grunewald.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

~*~

While Jensen is in the kitchen preparing Frühstück, Jared decides to snoop around Jensen’s sitting area. Looking for clues about the life Jensen leads, the life Jensen’s willing to leave behind for him.

The first thing that catches his eye is small keyboard instrument near the piano. _Why would Jensen need another piano?_ Jared examines the instrument, with a finger he presses down one of the keys. It’s a lot quieter than expected, but it sounds sort of like a piano. He decides to ask Jensen later, and moves on to browsing the bookshelves, examining the titles for some insight into the man himself.

Not surprisingly, Jensen has a wide range of music books ranging from musical theory by composers like Schonberg and Webern, to some older volumes that appear to be treatises of some sort, the only name he recognizes is Bach, but it’s not Johann Sebastian. Curiosity piqued he picks up _Versuch über die wahre Art das Clavier zu spielen_ by C.P.E Bach, and starts reading. He comes across a diagram of a Clavichord, and glances back at the small keyboard. Okay, he thinks, Jensen owns a Clavichord. Jared places the book back on the shelf and continues browsing, wondering what other treaties Jensen owns. It turns out quite a lot ranging from multiple volumes about the Clavier, violin, and weirdly enough Querflöte.

He moves on to the next bookshelf to find it’s filled with sheet music, the sheer volume is actually pretty amazing. Jensen’s playing tastes range from multiple Bachs, Mozart, Beethoven, Brahms, which isn’t really a surprise, to Schonberg, Hindemith, and Bartok, also not a surprise. Jensen even has some bound volumes of his own music. Judging by sheer numbers, Jensen’s favorites appear to be Bach, Brahms, and Bartok. Hundreds of volumes that Jensen will have to leave behind in order to run away with him.

The last bookshelf in the other corner of the room is just as full. Jared ignores it, and turns to the piano, also covered in sheet music. Jared inspects the sheet music resting on the stand; it’s one of Jensen’s own compositions. He picks up one of the loose sheets from the stand, and examines it, the dots and lines are foreign to him, but it’s interesting to see the messiness of Jensen’s composition, so unlike the man who always seems so meticulously put together.

He doesn’t read music, never had the opportunity to learn a musical instrument, despite his love of music. Maybe Jensen could teach me. It’s a hopeful thought, looking forward into the future, and for the first time in a while he doesn’t think it’s wishful thinking.

He feels someone’s eyes on him, and he looks up from the sheet music to find Jensen looking at him speculatively. “Do you read music?” Jensen asks, he’s holding a tray in his hand, which he sets on the coffee table.

Jensen starts pouring café into the dainty china cups. “Sugar?” Jensen lifts up a sugar cube.

“Three,” Jared replies, and he can’t help but laugh at Jensen’s grimace. “I like things sweet.”

“Your ruining great café,” Jensen responds. Jared counts it a win that Jensen gives him three sugars despite his disapproval.

“No,” Jared places the sheet back on the stand, and walks to the loveseat. Jensen hands him a cup that Jensen after he’s settled. “I was just looking at your handwriting, it’s messy, completely different from the way you present yourself to the world.”

“What the world sees is only the final product,” Jensen says. “Music is sometimes messy and unordered, it’s only after I polish it to death, do I finally allow the public to hear.”

“I’m guessing it’s in the early stages.”

Jensen smiles, “It doesn’t have an ending yet, until our story ends then it will remain unfinished.” Jared’s brows knit in confusion, Jensen points at the sheet music and continues, “That song you hold in your hands is us, it’s my way of mourning. I process the loss of someone I care about through music. But to answer your question, it’s not for public consumption.”

Jared mind thinks back to the piece of music Georg he saw among Jensen’s collection, and it dawns on him, that Jensen did the same thing after losing Georg Steinthal. It’s incredibly invasive, but he itches to look and see the output of Jensen’s grief.

“I think you should finish it. Maybe when we get to Paris?” Jared asks hopefully. He wants to hear Jensen’s interpretation of the events of the past few days. It’s an account of the early days of their relationship that they can look back on when they’re old and grey.

“We’ll see,” Jensen says, “If I do, I have a feeling that it will be less about us and more about this chapter in our lives.” Jensen kisses him tenderly, then hands him a plate. Jared grins, Jensen gave him the chocolate croissant. “I need to pack, before we go to Dianne’s.”

Jared sets down the plate and takes Jensen’s hand in his. He’s feeling the first twinges of doubt, wondering why Jensen is giving up all of this for him.

Jensen looks confused, “Jared?”

“Jensen,” Jared says solemnly. “You have a life here.” He waves a hand at the apartment. “You’re willing to abandon all of this for some disillusioned former Kommunist? Once we leave there is no coming back Jensen, you will not be welcomed in Germany again. What if what we have falls apart? I don’t want to ruin your life because I was too selfish to let you go.”

Jensen looks at him thoughtfully, “Jared how do you feel about me?”

Jared taken aback answers, “I love you.” It makes no sense, but he does.

“I love you too, Jared,” Jensen replies and Jared feels warm. “We just feel right together,” Jensen continues. “I have a chance to be with you, and I can’t just walk away and go on with my life.”

“I’m going to fight for us Jared, I gave up on someone else I loved and regretted it for years, I will not do the same with you. It might fall apart in the end, we may discover that despite our chemistry other things are incompatible,” his voice becomes desperate. “But I would rather find that out, then live the rest of my life wondering what could have been. All this can be replaced, you can’t.” He kisses Jared with the same hunger he did before offering himself to Jared last night. “I’m yours, Jared Padalecki, don’t cast me aside.”

Jared kisses him possessively, claiming that mouth for his own. “Me too,” Jared says when they break apart, “I’m yours Jensen Ackles.”

  
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	5. Part Five

  


Jared watches in awe as their taxi rolls down the quiet tree-lined streets of the Ackles’ neighborhood in Grunewald. Each house they pass seems larger and more impressive than the next. The contrast between this beautiful little hamlet in the woods, and the inner city of Berlin is stunning.

“Are you okay?” Jensen asks, squeezing Jared’s thigh briefly. “You’re quiet, is something troubling you?”

“Just overwhelmed,” Jared doesn’t elaborate. Jared wishes they could stop and take a breath, and recover before trying to build a life together. What they’re doing is impulsive and extremely rushed, but they don’t have time. Jared follows Jensen’s eyes as he glances at the driver, who is occupied and unable to see them. Jensen gives his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s rather picturesque, isn’t it,” Jensen remarks. Jared’s thankful for the change of subject. “I always thought it seemed like a _Märchenwelt.”_

“Did you grow up here?” Jared inquires, it’s certainly an opulent enough neighborhood.

As the taxi makes a right, and they pass a massive house that dominates the street corner, Jensen says, “That’s my family home.” Jared twists in his seat to look back at the house they just passed.

“Impressive,” Jared observes.

Jensen has this wistful smile on his face, “There’s a copse of trees out back that Johannes and used to spend our summers playing in.” Jensen laughs, “When I was … four I used to drag my brother around the woods while I searched for die drei Männlein</i>. I was so convinced that they lived in that forest that I would carry sweets from the kitchen to share, hoping that I would receive some amazing wishes.” 

“Johannes probably thought I was crazy, but he indulged me.” Jensen seems off in his own world, the familiar surroundings prompting fond childhood memories. Jensen quiets, and looks out his window. “Hannes was always indulging me,” Jensen says to no one in particular. Judging from Jensen’s wistful smile, it’s a fond memory.

Can we work through this? Jensen had asked. Jared had no doubt at the time. They could heal together. . Now, completely at a loss with how to comfort his grieving lover, Jared’s not so sure. Jensen’s grief is more complicated, but no less valid than Jared’s. He should understand Jensen’s loss, he’s mourning his brother as well, but he can’t get passed his anger and hatred for Johannes Ackles.

The taxi stops, and Jensen comes out of his reverie. “We’re here,” Jensen says and exits the taxi. Jared follows suit, and exits on the sidewalk. He takes a moment to stretch, before going to the back of the taxi where the driver has begun to unload their luggage.

It’s a good thing that Jensen packed enough for two people, otherwise it would appear even more strange for Jared to be travelling with Jensen. It was both sad and amusing to see Jensen parse down his entire apartment into three suitcases. Jared doesn’t have a lot of material possesions, mostly clothes that he’s not that attached to so it was an illuminating experience watching Jensen decide what in his apartment he was willing to leave behind possibly permanently. It became less amusing when Jensen spent a few moments saying “good-bye” to his pianos. Right now, Jared has only the clothes on his back, given to him by Jensen.

Jared, Jensen, and the driver carry the luggage to the front door. Jensen releases the driver with a handful of money and a polite, “Danke schön.” Jensen doesn’t notice, but the driver looks at them askance before going on his way.

The butler greets Jensen with a polite, “Guten Morgen, Herr Ackles.” If the man is curious about their purpose, he gives nothing away. “Frau Ackles is in her study.”

The butler picks up the other handle of the trunk Jared’s standing beside, and he and Jared carry it into the foyer. Jensen places his other two suitcases beside the trunk.

“Danke schön Andreas,” Jensen says.

Andreas nods and replies with a curt, “Bitte schön.” He leaves them to their own devices.

“I wonder if Dianne is expecting us,” Jensen muses. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Jensen takes his hand, “Let’s introduce you to Dianne.”

Jared starts to feel more confident about Jensen’s trust in Dianne Ackles when they enter her study. The décor screams rebellion from the Nazi party line, the room was definitely not designed by Johannes Ackles. _So, probably not a Frauchen_.

Dianne embraces Jensen warmly; she kisses him on the cheek. Jensen returns the embrace. After a moment she whispers something in his ear, Jensen replies quietly. Based on Jensen’s body language, she’s offering her condolences.

“So, this is Jared Padalecki?” she asks Jensen, as she inspects him.

Jared decides, as he shifts under Dianne Ackles inspection, that she’s an intense woman. Her eyes travel over his body, not in a sexual way, but as if she’s looking for a weakness. He understands what Jensen means by formidable; she doesn’t seem like a woman who given a chance would be afraid to speak her mind.

“Yes, this is Jared,” Jensen replies.

“He seems pretty enough,” Dianne remarks. “Is he really worth…”

“Will everyone stop asking me that?!” Jensen interrupts.

"Jensen, I’m helping you,” Dianne says with exasperation. “However, it is irrational to give up so much for someone you’ve known only two days.”

Jensen glares at her, “I’m never rational.”

“True,” Dianne agrees. “You’re also very mulish when you’ve made up your mind about something. I should know better than to try and force you to see reason, but I still try.”

Jensen huffs in annoyance.

"Well, we should get to your purpose here.” Dianne returns to the chair closest at the head of the coffee table chair. “Please sit.”

Jared sits beside Jensen on the loveseat. Jensen reaches out for Jared’s hand, which he gratefully accepts. Dianne’s eyes track the gesture; her mouth twitches into a smile. He still feels like Dianne is sizing him up, so he’s uncomfortable in that sense. However, if Jensen’s comfortable enough around Dianne to show Jared affection it’s a point in her favor.

Dianne’s smile fades and she looks more solemn. “Stefan Karlson visited this morning to inform me of your brother’s death.”

“What did he tell you?” Jared asks, he assumes Karlson told her the worst. There may be little affection between Dianne and Johannes Ackles, yet Jared braces for Dianne to angrily call him on his actions. Strangely, Dianne remains subdued.

“That Johannes was dead,” she replies. “And that he was going to kill the person responsible.”

She gives him a knowing glance. _She knows_ , Jared’s stomach drops. _She’s going to refuse to help._

“I’m not as hell-bent on vengeance as Stefan,” Dianne continues. “There are no winners, just survivors, in this scenario."

 _Is she ever anything other than rational?_ Jared wonders. The brief display of affection between her and Jensen indicates that she’s not completely frigid, but she’s taking this all too calmly.

“Hopefully, this doesn’t make me heartless,” Dianne begins, “But I feel lighter, almost relieved that he’s gone. I can live my life the way I want, without society expecting me to marry again. I've paid my dues to society, I married the man my parents wanted and I've bared his children. Now I can get on with my life, reclaim my children." She focuses on Jared, from Jensen’s slight nod, as she give this this confession. Intellectually, Jared knows that not all marriages a built on mutual affection, but he pities Ackles. He had such a frigid marriage that his wife is relieved to be rid of him. Even Jensen seems conflicted for mourning him.

“It might seem hallow coming from me, but my condolences to you for your loss, Jared,” Dianne says. “Your brother seemed like a good man.”

“He … thank you,” Jared stammers, touched by her consideration. “He was a good man. A good brother.”

Dianne nods. "Am I correct in assuming that you will be using my escape plan after all Jensen?" She doesn't seem put out by this, in fact Jared thinks she seems oddly happy for Jensen, despite her distrust of his motives for staying with Jared.

"Yes," Jensen says, his eyes find Jared and he gives him that small but loving smile that Jared never wants to see directed at anyone else. “You said you made arrangements?”

“Originally, my father was involved, so that I could get you out of the country without raising suspicion with Johannes.”

“Why on earth would your father help us?” Jared’s astonished by this offer. Dianne’s father, most likely arranged the marriage between his daughter and Johannes Ackles to gain an ally in the Nazi party. “What’s in it for him?”

“A petty grudge against Johannes, he’s didn't approve of Johannes’ affair.” She snorts. “The hypocrisy of his dislike is amusing if you think about it,” she laughs at her own personal joke, because Jared really has no clue what she’s referring to. “I guess when it’s his own daughter…” she doesn’t continue her tangent and says, “Anyways, he wants to turn the tables on Johannes. Helping smuggle Johannes’ nemesis, and his lover, out of the country is definitely something he’s interested in.”

“Dianne, please tell me that you didn’t tell him about the true nature of our relationship?” Jensen asks warily.

Dianne looks at him with annoyance, “Of course not. My father would probably turn you both in to the Nazis himself if he knew that the lover of Jared Padalecki is a man.”

“Now my family’s involvement isn’t necessary, so I will have our chauffer Adrian take you to Posen.”

“I never asked, but do you have any relatives we can rely on?” Jensen asks him.

“Not really,” Jared replies. “I’m from Stettin, so it wouldn’t help us that much.”

“Pity,” Dianne says. “I’m sure you both can find accommodation in Posen. My suggestion is that you leave later tonight, when there won’t be much activity on the roads.”

"Now, we just need enough money to cover any bribes,” Jared says, hoping that Dianne doesn’t take it as a request for money directed at her.

Jensen shifts, "I have a sizable amount in my account. I’ve been rather frugal over the past couple years, so I still have a lot of what Georg left me.” Jensen seems more uncomfortable, and Jared sympathizes it’s hard to ask for help. “Hopefully getting across the border won’t take all of my funds.”

“Jensen,” Dianne begins. “I will give you 10,000 Reichmark, whatever is leftover in the end is yours.”

“Dianne,” Jensen begins, but stops when Dianne raises her hand. “Jensen, I’m happy to help you.” Her face is stern, she probably looks this way scolding her children, and she clearly expects Jensen to take her offered money. “I want to help you Jensen, let me do this.”

“I won’t ever be able to repay you,” Jensen responds. “I can’t repay you for any of this.”

“It’s called charity Jensen,” Dianne says. “You don’t have to repay me.”

Jared feels it’s time to speak up; he squeezes Jensen’s hand again, which draws Jensen’s attention away from Dianne. “Like Jensen said there is no way to repay your generosity, but I’m grateful for your family’s help. Danke.”

“Bitte,” she replies, and raises an eyebrow at Jensen waiting for Jensen to protest. Jensen just nods, and remains silent.

“Jared you are welcome to stay here while Jensen runs any necessary errands. I would ask that you stay out of the main rooms,” she cautions. “I may have some protection, but it wouldn’t do for any of Johannes’s colleagues to see you, harboring a criminal is still a crime.”

Jared’s eyes flicker to the bookshelves, “I can probably keep myself entertained.”

~*~

Daneel Harris steps off the U-bahn at Senenfelder-Platz and walks with purpose towards Jensen’s apartment building. Despite the troubles Jensen and Johannes are experiencing, Jensen needs to be told about his brother’s murder. If Johannes’ suspicions were correct, Jensen needs to know about his lover’s cold-bloodedness.

Johannes seemed pretty adamant when they were together last night that Jensen’s new lover was Jared Padalecki. The idea that Jensen would stoop so low leaves a bad taste in Danneel’s mouth. At the time she never said anything, but she thinks that Jensen’s subversive ways are a result of Johannes’ overindulgence of Jensen’s whims as a child. Johannes never forced Jensen to do anything he didn’t want to. This uncharitable thought about Johannes brings a tear to her eyes in light of the news she just heard.

She reaches the front door of Jensen’s apartment building. She stands for a moment to collect herself; she wants to project the same calmness as Stefan when she tells Jensen the bad news. She needs to be stoic until she is alone and can give herself over to grief.

 _“Danneel,” Stefan’s voice was quiet, soft, the tone people use when they are telling you distressing news. His eyes were soft and sympathetic, Danneel knew instantly that something bad had happened to Johannes. “Can I come in?”_

 _Danneel lets him in. Conscious of her state of undress, the only person who ever came to her door this early in the morning was Johannes, and wearing only a negligee wouldn’t ever be a problem. It’s one thing to be seen in such scandalous clothing during a Cabaret performance, but another thing entirely to be seen by anyone other than Johannes in the privacy of her own home. It’s too intimate._

 _“Have a seat in the living room,” she said with more calm than she felt. “I’ll be right back.”_

 _When she returned, She sat next to Stefan on the loveseat. He held her hands in his, his gaze is sad. “Only one man survived from Johannes’ group,” she still doesn’t know how his voice remained steady, Johannes was his best friend, how can he be so emotionless. “It wasn’t Johannes,” Danneel waited with baited breath for him to say what she already knew. “Johannes was killed last night.”_

 _“Who killed him?” she asked._

 _“Jared Padalecki.” Stefan’s voice is cold, contemptuous._

Feeling sufficiently composed, she enters Jensen’s apartment building. She walks up the stairs to Jensen’s second floor apartment. She knocks. A short moment later, Jensen answers.

“Danneel,” Jensen says. “This is a surprise.” He opens the door. “Come in.”

Danneel enters, and follows Jensen into his sitting area. The apartment’s tidy, especially the piano. It’s too tidy for Jensen normally. What’s going on? she wonders. She feels unsettled, by the state of Jensen’s apartment.

“Hello Danneel,” a female voice says, Danneel turns to find Genevieve sitting on Jensen's loveseat. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and she's clutching a handkerchief tightly in her hands. Danneel's not terribly surprised to find Genevieve here; she and Jensen are incredibly close. At one point Danneel probably could have had the same closeness, if she hadn't pulled away after finding out that Jensen was a homosexual. It takes her a moment to realize why Genevieve's been crying; she too lost someone she loved. Danneel really doesn't have any sympathy for her, because Genevieve brought this upon herself by choosing to be with someone so unsuitable.

"Hello Genevieve," she replies. Jensen is still standing awkwardly between the two of them. Genevieve just glares and doesn’t say anything.

Danneel sees red. Danneel moves from her position to get in Genevieve's space, Jensen restrains her with his arm around her waste.. "Danneel," he says far too calmly. "I'm assuming you had other reasons for visiting me than berating Genevieve." Danneel detects a certain amount of impatience from Jensen. _Does he resent her presence?_ she wonders.

"I came to inform you that your brother is dead," Danneel says, "but I'm assuming that you've already heard." She glares at Genevieve. "I came because I needed to be with someone who missed him." _I needed someone who loved him._

Danneel doesn't know what to make of Jensen's expression, it’s blank, impassive and impenetrable. She thought that after everything Johannes did for Jensen, he would be more emotional than this. Their relationship may have been steadily grown rocky the few months, but they were close at one point. She didn’t expect such blankness from him. She shifts uncomfortably, feeling unwelcome and out of place.

Jensen takes a breath, “Jared told me this morning.”

“Please tell me you haven’t…”

"I did,” Jensen says without remorse.

“You slept with your brother’s murderer?”

Genevieve scoffs, “Johannes Ackles is the only murderer.”

“Jared murdered my lover!” Danneel yells as she rounds on Jensen. “He murdered your brother! Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” she asks incredulously. How can Jensen even consider sleeping with Padalecki?

“I was happy he was alive,” Jensen rubs a hand over his chin, not looking her in the eyes. “He was standing at my door, after I thought I lost him. I didn’t know that he was the one to kill Johannes.” Jensen raises his head, his calm mask is fading, and Danneel sees something like guilt in his eyes.

“How could you sleep with a murderer?” Danneel doesn’t hide her disgust with that prospect.

“I don’t think he’s a murderer,” Jensen says. “He’s a soldier in a war..”

"He still killed your brother,” Danneel protests weakly.

“And if he hadn’t, Johannes would have killed him,” Jensen says angrily. “Do you still not get it Danneel? What’s happening out there is … aweful. Any blood on the streets will be because of their bloodthirst, their need to ensure that theirWeltanschaung is the only one deciding the fate of Deutschland.”

"They will make Deutschland great again…”

The defense of the party comes naturally off Danneel’s tongue.

“No,” Jensen interrupts. “They will lead us down a path that will only lead in multitudes of our young men lost. We as a country can’t fight the world Danneel, we will only lose.”

Danneel increases the distance between her and Jensen, appalled by what Jensen is saying. “Why are you saying this?” She came here expecting an ally, someone who would share her grief. “The world is better without men like Padalecki. They were traitors.”

“Why?” Jensen asks, he sounds angrier that Danneel has ever heard him. “Because they chose to have a different Weltanschaung?” He shakes his head; seeming sad and defeated, “They don’t deserve death. None of the people that die in the coming months by the Nazi’s hands deserve death. Danneel, did you honestly think you had my sympathy?” he asks.

“Yes,” Danneel answers, now feeling that her earlier belief that Jensen was an ally naïve.

Jensen laughs bitterly “I don’t know how I feel about my brother, but I’m definitely not grieving the same way you are. All I know is that I’m terribly confused and don’t know whether to mourn my brother or curse his name.”

Danneel takes in the clean piano. Suddenly, something occurs to her. “Are you planning on leaving?” she asks in disbelief.

Jensen bites, his lip but doesn’t reply. “You’re going to run with Padalecki, aren’t you?” Danneel feels sick even asking. It’s a betrayal to Johannes’ memory of the highest order. “You’ve fallen so far that you would be with that Judenschwein?”

Jensen’s becomes livid. “Jared makes me happy. I could be happy with him and I will do everything in my power to hold on to him for as long as I can. I’ve lost far too much to other peoples hate.”

Danneel stands there speechless, she can’t think of any response.

Jensen continues, his tone is dripping with contempt. “You look down on us, but you are nothing more than my brother’s whore, some cheap accessory on his arm because he’s not smart enough to see the value of his wife.”

“You probably came here hoping to get me to betray Jared?” Jensen asks. Danneel nods, although, it didn’t even occur to her that Jensen would view bringing Jared to justice as a betrayal. “Well, you guessed wrong.”

"And the others he killed that night?” Danneel asks, from what she heard from Stefan, Jared went on quite the rampage that night.

“Self-defense.”

Genevieve is now standing, an angry look on her face, arms folded across her chest. Jensen’s expression mirrors hers. “I think you should leave.”

“Jensen,” Danneel says, “Jared killed the love of my life. He’s a traitor, and I will have my revenge.” She doesn’t wait for Jensen’s reply; she just turns and walks out the door.

~*~

Danneel enters Aufsturz, a bar located in a less respectable part of town. She’s still shell shocked by the Jensen’s hostile and unsympathetic response to her grief. She wanted a friend and Jensen rebuffed her in the most hateful way. This unexpected reaction still stings.

Aufsturz is not a place Danneel would normally frequent. The interior is dingy, and everything seems to be covered in a thin layer of grime. She feels dirty even stepping foot in this pub. I will definitely have to bathe later she thinks. Stefan definitely misrepresented this place.

It takes her a few moments to pick out Stefan among the non-descript patrons, he’s not in uniform and his worn clothing blends in with the other patrons. This is clearly a bar for the working class and she feels like she stands out in her well-tailored suit, and perfectly coiffed hair. She feels every man’s eyes follow her, as she makes her way across the room to Stefan’s table.

Stefan is nursing a beer, and Danneel wants to scold him, but then she realizes that it would be odd for him to sit here waiting for her without drinking. The beer is almost gone, and there’s another empty glass beside him; she wonders how long he’s been sitting there waiting for her, if he’s managed to finish almost two beers. She bites back any residual annoyance, not letting her experience with Jensen earlier color her interaction with Stefan now.

Danneel sits down on the bench opposite Stefan, and it takes all of her will power not to clean off the table. Stefan acknowledges her presence with a gruff, “Tag.” Danneel feels her annoyance rise, Stefan has never really liked her, but she is on his side so he shouldn’t be as annoyed with her.

“Fräulein,” Stefan says, “Would you like a drink?”

“No thanks,” Danneel replies, as if she wants to drink something out of the glasses here. Also, she’s not here for a social visit. She‘s going to deliver her tip and then go home and wallow in her misery. It means less pay, but part of her is glad that _Erbsünde_ is closed so that she won’t have to psych herself up to perform when she doesn’t feel like it. Performing will never be the same now that Johannes is gone.

Stefan doesn’t seem to care, “Danneel,” he sounds annoyed. “I agreed to meet you here out of respect to Ackles.” He takes a sip of beer, “However, we are currently searching for Padalecki and those that managed to survive. We don’t need you supervising our progress.” He gives her a stern look “I met with you today, because you are grieving, but after today I will not bother with you unless I report of Jared Padalecki’s death.”

It takes everything Danneel has to not act like an immature girl about the fact that she has a lead on Padalecki’s whereabouts. She can’t prevent her gleeful smile, and Stefan gives her a curious look. “I know how you can find Jared Padalecki,” she says with undisguised triumph. The immature part of her feels much better at Stefan’s brief look of shock, before he schools his features.

“Really?” Stefan manages to sound completely neutral.

"Yes,” Danneel replies, “You can find Padalecki through Jensen.”

Stefan looks confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Danneel continues, “That Jensen is sleeping with Jared Padalecki. He didn’t say outright, but I think that he’s planning on running away with Padalecki.” Johannes, as much as he disliked Jensen before his death, would probably kill her for revealing this information, but Stefan has enough respect for Johannes’ memory to not touch Jensen. Stefan doesn’t seem surprised, by either revelation. “You knew?”

“There have been rumors about Jensen’s … preferences, since he returned to Berlin three years ago,” Stefan replies. “Stories that he got in trouble in Wien, but there was no paper trail. As far as I know he’s been practically celibate, so there’s nothing to prosecute.”

“Also, no one would go after the brother of a Gruppenleiter,” Danneel states.

“Exactly,” Stefan confirms. “He’s given us no proof, the rumors are only about what he did in Wien, there’s nothing about Berlin.” Stefan laughs, “It’s hard to believe that someone who works at a club called _Erbsünde_ could be such a saint.”

He’s not a saint,” Danneel says. “Did you not hear me? He slept with Padalecki, he sleeps with men.” She’s a little outraged that Stefan would even consider Jensen a saint.

“Well,” Stefan takes a sip of his beer “His current crimes aside, he hasn’t done anything to arouse suspicion.”

“And now?” the vindictive part of Danneel thinks that if Jensen is found out and killed. It’s the least he deserves for his betrayal.

“I won’t touch him,” Stefan says firmly. “But if he’s found out by anyone other than me? I won’t go out on a limb to protect him, especially if he’s caught with Padalecki. Johannes wouldn’t either, there’s no good way to justify stepping in to save him.”

“So, you’ll let him live?” Danneel didn’t doubt Stefan’s loyalty to Johannes, but in the past he had expressed a murderous hatred for homosexuals.

“Johannes asked me to look after him,” Stefan replies solemnly. “I let him go, he’ll probably leave the country and I wash my hands of any responsibility.”

Danneel nods in agreement. “The real question though,” Stefan continues, “If Jensen is not at his apartment where would he go?”

“Dianne,” Danneel says with certainty. Jensen would turn to Dianne for help in a heartbeat. Dianne would probably help Jensen with something so reckless because of her own arrogance that she wouldn’t be touched. It’s true, for now, Dianne is untouchable.

“Naturally,” Stefan responds. “Of course, she would defy Johannes like that.”

“Don’t touch her,” Danneel says, and Stefan looks at her quizzically. “This indiscretion is something I can work to my advantage.”

Stefan smiles, “I knew you were a manipulative bitch, Danneel.”

“Dianne deserves what’s coming to her,” Danneel replies. “I’m used to a certain standard of living, and she can insure that I continue to live that way.”

  


A couple hours later Jared is sprawled comfortably on the loveseat in Dianne's study. He’s reading Der Untertan by Heinrich Mann; the message of someone's downfall being caused by a stringent adherence to a political ideology resonates with him in a way it hadn't before. In light of his downfall, because of an unquestioning defense of Communism, he sees Diedrich Hessling, Mann's bumbling and hypocritical Wilhelmine fool, in an entirely different light. Before he saw the book as a critique of what he felt was wrong with Deutschland, and it still is in many ways, but now, he actually sees himself in Hessling. It's fascinating to re-read the novel with this new awareness and understanding.

He's read a quarter through the book, before he has to toss it aside in disgust, since the naivety of Hessling is become too much. They were all like Hessling; each and every one of his friends, his brother. He sits up and buries his head in his hands. There’s a dip in the couch and arms wrap around him, pulling him close.

“Hey.” a male voice sooths, fingers running through his hair. _Jensen._

“Your back,” Jared looks at Jensen. “Everything in place?”

“Yes,” Jensen replies. “I bought some clothes, not a lot since I was guessing sizes. But they should fit better and tide you over until we reach Poland. I imagine mine are rather uncomfortable.”

“Not so much anymore.” It’s true he stopped noticing. “But it will be nice to have something that fits a little bit better for the time being.”

“I made one last visit to my apartment,” Jensen releases Jared, his hands rest in his lap. “Genevieve was waiting for me.”

“How is she?” Jared suspects that she’s not handling Jakub’s death well or losing Jensen as a friend either.

“She’s doing about as well can be expected,” Jensen looks guilty. “I feel like I’m abandoning her.”

Jared’s starting to doubt whether this is the best idea for Jensen. He takes Jensen’s hand, and makes sure that Jensen meets his eyes before saying, “Jensen, I want to be with you. I think that if we give ourselves a shot, we could be amazing.”

Jensen smiles, “I agree.”

“That said, to be together you have to give up your life here. Who knows if you’ll ever be able to see your friends and family again?” Jensen looks like he’s going to say something, but Jared continues before Jensen can say anything. “I don’t want you to resent me for taking you away. I don’t want this to fall apart because down the road you feel like you’ve abandoned your family, and then you hate me because I’m the cause. I don’t want to be your biggest regret in life.” _Please understand_ , he silently begs Jensen. _I want to be with you, but only if you’re absolutely sure_. “You understood yesterday, why I didn’t want to run away with you. It ran counter to everything I believed to abandon my brother, and I knew that I’d resent myself and eventually you.”

“Jared, we already went over this.” Jensen’s tone is annoyed. “I’ve already told you I want to do this.”

“I need you to really think about this,” Jared says seriously. “Even if your answer comes at the last minute, it’s fine. But once that car leaves there’s no going back.”

“I know Jared,” Jensen’s voice is tense. Jared feels that maybe Jensen doesn’t really like to think through his more impulsive life choices, like he doesn’t want to dwell on them at all.

“I don’t need an answer now,” Jared says. “Just think about it.”

Jensen’s mouth is in a thin line; he doesn’t say anything, just nods and pulls away from Jared.

There’s a racket in the hallway, and some small voices shouting. Two small children, a boy and girl, run into the room and are closely followed by Dianne. Jared releases Jensen’s hand. The little boy looks skeptical and a little afraid, but the little girl seems more curious than anything else. Jared’s mood sinks further; these are Ackles’ children in front of him. He took away their father, they are too young to know or understand what type of man their father was. All that they know is that he’s gone. He doesn’t envy Dianne the task of explaining to them about their father years from now. Considering the contempt she has towards her husband, he wonders how she will handle her husband’s legacy in the future.

“Onkel Jensen,” the girl asks, “Who is he?”

“A friend,” Jensen replies.

Jared holds out his hand to the little girl, forming a decent facsimile of a smile. “I’m Jared.”

The girl takes his hand; it’s so small and tiny in his own. “Ich bin Petra Ackles,” she says and then turns to her brother. “Das ist mein Bruder, Florian.”

“It’s nice to meet you Petra,” Jared releases her hand. “You too Florian.” The boy just nods.

“We were wondering if you would like to join us downstairs for lunch,” Dianne says.

“Is it safe?” Jared asks, he can’t be seen here.

“I’ve instructed the servants to send anyone who comes by to offer condolences to the drawing room,” Dianne said. “You will be perfectly fine.”

~*~

Jensen watches Petra pick out the notes of the song, in front of her, on the keyboard. It’s one of the older pieces he wrote for her. After lunch she had asked him to play with her, looking excited and hopeful, he couldn’t really bring himself to refuse. Also, Jared seemed to escape to Dianne’s study after lunch, telling Jensen he wanted to be alone and that Jensen should use the time to think. Petra was a welcome distraction.

Petra only showed an interest in music recently, but she took to it with a great deal of enthusiasm for a five year old. Jensen had no clue what he was doing, he taught older students, not beginners, to supplement his income in Wien. But Petra’s interest tugged at the part of him that wanted to pass on his love of music to his own child, and since that wouldn’t be happening he decided to give it a shot when asked.

After the first month of flying blind and not really finding the music they were working through acceptable, Jensen started composing a new piece for Petra each week. Usually one handed pieces. But after Petra’s eyes lit up at the idea of playing a duet he wrote for them, he focused on the duets. Their Sunday afternoon lessons became one of the highlights of his week. It was enjoyable to see her reaction to each new song he brought her. It was hard not to be cheered by her boundless enthusiasm and good humor.

Currently, they’re playing through the last of the solos, having finished the duets already, with Jensen improvising and accompaniment. They finish and Petra looks at him expectantly, “Will you have a new piece next week?”

 _I won’t be here next week_ , Jensen thinks. It hits him then, there will be no more Sunday afternoon piano lessons. No more pre-performance drinking sessions with Genevieve. He’s not just giving up his possessions, though it’s likely that Dianne can send them to his new home whenever he and Jared get there, but these little parts of his life that have made his life in Berlin wonderful.

Jensen understands now why Jared, or by extension Dianne and Genevieve, want him to think about what he’s doing. He’s giving up too much, for it to be an impulsive decision.

“Onkel Jensen?” Petra’s voice disrupts his thoughts. Jensen looks down at her, and she looks confused.

“I’m going on a trip,” Jensen replies. He’s not going to tell her that he’s moving until he knows for sure himself.

“When will you be back?”

Jensen thinks about Jared, the emptiness that he felt last night when he thought Jared was dead. The pain that he poured into his music, while he waited for someone to tell him that Jared was dead. His relief, when Jared showed up at his door. For some reason he can’t quite name, it feels right with Jared. He can’t lose another lover.

“I don’t know, Kleene,” Jensen tells her. How do you tell a child you’re leaving? “I’m going to be moving far away from here.”

“Why?” Petra turns her wide and questioning eyes towards him, and Jensen’s resolve falters.

She’s too young to understand the complexities of the situation, Jensen just says, “My job.”

“Can’t you play music here?”

Jensen decides that being opaque isn’t going to work, so he changes tactics. “You remember how in Die Bremer Stadtmusikanten, der Esel, Hund, Kätze, und Hahn had to leave their homes because they weren’t useful anymore.” Petra nods, and Jensen continues, “Well I’m like them. I’m too old to carry grain, hunt, kill mice anymore, nor do I want to be meat in someone’s stew. So, I have to leave Berlin.”

Petra’s expression is heartbreaking, “Does that mean you’re never coming back too?”

“I don’t know,” Jensen pulls her into a hug; he kisses the top of her head tenderly. In many ways this was even harder than saying goodbye to Genevieve. “If I can I will. I’ll still write for you, so that you know that you will always be in my heart.”

Petra nods forlornly, she whispers a quiet “I’ll miss you.”

Jensen pulls her closer, and whispers, “Me too.”

Jensen continues to hold her. They sit there quietly until Petra starts to fidget. Jensen lets go. He notices that it’s late in the day, so they must have been sitting there for quite some time.

There is a rustling at the door and it must be Jared. He’s observing them, and Jensen wonders how long he’s been standing there. Jensen takes in the sight of Jared’s tall frame, the strength he projects to the world. He knows that he’s making the right decision.

“It’s time for dinner,” Jared says. “Petra, your mother wants you to wash up.”

Petra slides off the piano bench, Jensen follows suit. He halts at the door, and Petra stops as well.

“Go on. I’ll be at dinner, Petra,” Jensen tells her. “I need to talk to Jared.”

The little girl nods and leaves the room. Jensen steps forward and kisses Jared. He tries to convey how much he wants Jared and how he can’t let Jared go in the way he kisses Jared.

“I’m in,” Jensen says confidently.

“So we’re going to become _Bremer Stadtmusikanten_?” Jared asks.

“Exactly,” Jensen affirms.

“Okay.”

~*~

Jared walks out of the front door of the Ackles’ mansion, onto the landing suitcase in hand. It’s a little chilly by the river, but otherwise it’s a pleasant night. The glow from the entry lights behind him illuminates the entire front yard. Figuring this would be his last night to enjoy Berlin at night, he sets down his suitcase on the landing, closes his eyes and just takes everything in. He needs to leave, he can’t stay here, but part of him still wants to stay. The only noise he hears is the faint noise of the waves, and even fainter Dianne and Jensen saying good-bye.

He feels himself wrapped in a warm embrace, strong arms wrap around his waist, followed by a kiss to the back of his head. “Are you ready to go?” Jensen asks softly.

Jared turns. It’s still surreal that all of this is happening, especially that he’s leaving the city with someone he barely knows. Jared kisses Jensen tenderly, not wanting to talk at the moment. When they break apart, Jared studies Jensen. Jensen is smiling, but he can see the faintest hint of sadness in his eyes. Jared wonders what he did to deserve this man, who’s willing to give up so much for him.

“I’m ready,” Jared whispers, kissing Jensen again. “Are you?”

Jensen nods. Jared lets him go, and picks up his suitcase, “I’m going to put this in the car.” Jared walks to the car, where the chauffer has left the trunk open. The chauffer, Adrian if Jared remembers correctly, takes the suitcase from him and puts it in the trunk. Jensen appears on the landing, carrying two of his smaller suitcases. Behind him, the butler, Adreas and another man are carrying Jensen’s trunk.

The chauffer removes Jared’s suitcase and waits patiently for Jensen’s trunk to be loaded into the trunk. HE places Jared’s suitcase beside the trunk, followed by both of Jensen’s suitcases.

Dianne has joined them, and she and Jensen are embracing one last time. Jared hopes that when things settle, Dianne might be able to visit them. Jared decided that she was pleasant company, and could see why she Jensen was so attached.

Jensen lets go of Dianne and smiles when he sees Jared. Jensen has a beautiful smile when he’s happy, the corner of his eyes crinkle and his eyes brighten.

The first shot that cuts through his chest is shocking, and his chest blossoms in pain. His hand goes to the wound, which is barely bleeding, and he stares at it in shock. He lifts his head through the pain, and sees Stefan Karlson with his gun aiming at him. Stefan’s blue eyes are cold, merciless. Stefan shoots again, the bullet hitting the same area.

Jared falls back, he expects to hit the cold ground, but he’s in someone’s arms. He feels a kiss to his forehead and he knows its Jensen. He weakly grasps Jensen’s shirt. “Jared?” Jensen says brokenly. Jared manages to turn his head to look at Jensen. Jensen’s eyes are glistening with tears, a stark contrast to the joy he showed just moments before. Jared is starting to go numb. He feels a weight on his chest, and some swearing followed by a choked, “Jared, no.” Another kiss, this time to his lips.

Jared smile is faint, glad that he’s in Jensen’s arms, that he’s with Jensen. Unable to resist the heaviness in his eyes, he closes them and slips from this world.

  
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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank both my betas wickedlilwitch* and kain_abel for all of their help during the entire writing process. All of your work is greatly appreciated.
> 
> I'd also like to thank my artist ewlyn for her really cool approach to the artwork for my bigbang. The concept that she came up with was amazing and really fit this story.
> 
> Regarding historical accuracy, this story has been researched to the best of my ability given the time constraints of a job and real life.
> 
> The idea for this story came from an attempt to take the familiar Romeo and Juliet trope, two lovers caught between warring families, and set it in a time of historical uncertainty. The time period just after the Nazis gained power in Febuary of 1933 was a period of transition and for many who worried how it would effect their lives because of race or political ideology, a period of uncertainty. I wanted to explore how someone who had been involved in the early days of the Weimar Republic with promoting a rival party, in this case the Communists, would chose to live their lives. Possibly knowing that they would be killed or imprisoned for a choice they made. In the case of Jared in this story, a choice that he later regretted because in the end he didn't agree with what the Communists stood for.
> 
> I used the backdrop of the days before what is known as the "Night of the Long Knives", or the Röhm-Putsch, because I view that every tragedy comes down to the individual. The tragedy of what happened was because German citizens who were like Jared, intelligent, patriotic, and politically engaged in trying to build a democracy in Germany, were lost because of this event. It reflects what I see as not valuing life.
> 
> Thanks to wendy and thehighwaywoman for running this challenge.


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